


Disjecta Membra

by ezbaekoven



Series: to heartbreaks and happy endings [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Baekhyun - Freeform, ChickLit, EXO - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Love, Romance, Smut, agegap, baekhyunxoc, highschoolAU, mature - Freeform, originalcharacter, teacherxstudent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 116,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezbaekoven/pseuds/ezbaekoven
Summary: he’s your ex-lover, except his memory is gone, and the worst part is that you may still have feelings for him.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/OC
Series: to heartbreaks and happy endings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031151
Kudos: 1





	1. anfractuous

**Author's Note:**

> Kang Haeeun returns to her hometown after being fed up with constantly running away from her worst nightmare. Upon coming back and meeting him again, a cold realization that she has possibly never gotten over him occurs to her. Worst of all? He's completely forgotten her. 
> 
> On the other hand, Byun Baekhyun, infamous for his indifference, does something completely out of his nature; he can't seem to mind his own business when it comes to the transfer student. Worst of all? The way she looks at him sends pangs to his chest.
> 
> The two get wrapped up in a dangerous affair, but they can't help themselves. After all, the past inevitably repeats itself.

**[haeeun]**

My mouth falls open, eyes fluttering closed. Every inch of my skin burns as a pair of lips drag themselves across my stomach. I tighten my arm around his neck, pulling him closer. He teases me, teeth nipping and dragging across the sensitive flesh.

I shiver as his long slender fingers trace the edge of my panties. I’m impatient—heat floods below my stomach, and I’m wet. So fucking wet and ready for him.

The man above me tears my panties away, throwing it over his shoulders. His eyes drink me in until I’m completely drained, and there’s nothing left. No resistance. No thoughts. Everything fades away, and it’s simply the two of us.

He drags his knuckles against my clit, and I writhe, murmuring his name. I need more. More of his hands. More of his _heat_. But it seems that nothing is enough. My need is a bottomless ocean—forever stretching, _chilling_ me.

I need to feel him against me. I want to devour his lips. I want to be closer. I want his smell all over me. Until I’m _drowning._

I grasp his chin with my right hand, and in one firm tug, I’m able to get a good look at his face. My heart drops, colliding with everything in the way—knocking my lungs away. And I can’t breathe.

“ _Baekhyun?_ ”

Waking with a start, I bolt from my bed. A shooting pain spreads throughout my head. A bitter fuck rings out from me, realizing that I slammed my head against the headboard.

Steadily, my neck cranes to the right, and I jump out of my skin when I see the flashing red analog numbers that read 7:45 AM. My blanket is strung over somewhere as I hurriedly trip to the bathroom.

My skin is dull—pale. I haven’t been sleeping well lately because the nightmares have returned. But does _he_ count as a nightmare? My stomach flips as I try to forget. I focus on makeup, swiping foundation and concealer accurately. The girl in the mirror is unrecognizable. I’ve changed my appearance, and if you ask me, I can’t tell you where she went—the girl who has enormous baggage.

No, I’m not her. I’d abandoned her when I’d packed up and moved back here. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing and chanting, _come on, Haeeun. He won’t be here anymore._

After a beat, I fish out my mom’s last artifact, and then I’m swiping the tube over my lips, coating them in a beautiful, dark—luscious red. Rubbing my lips together, I plaster a smile, but I can only see a stranger in the mirror.

She doesn’t feel like me, but we look the same. My smile turns bitter, and it falls. Who am I? But the question falls dead in the silence. Because I don’t know who I am myself. Not anymore.

Begrudgingly, I push my door open to see the kitchen, my trench coat still half pulled on. My hands snatch the note off of the fridge. I scan over the messy lettering, feeling the pull of my disappointment.

_Won't be here for a while. I'm off with Jun._

I sigh, raking a hand through my tangled mane. After my mom passed, I was in and out of foster care. And now, here I was, eighteen years old with an adoptive mother who couldn’t care less about me. Tamara had been off with her new wealthy boy toy again. She’d only moved into the neighborhood yesterday, but the older was off in the world without a care about me.

My shoulders droop in defeat, and I spin on my heels, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading out the front door. My hands dip into the bowl of keys, and I pull out mine.

My lips twitch when I catch sight of the black Tesla in my peripheral. At least there’s one thing still going for me. Although I wasn't a big fan of Tamara, the woman did gift me something useful that I’d cherished.

Tamara’s from money. Even a stranger could tell from a mile away. She wears her wealth like a second skin. Designer handbags, gold watch, sleek red-bottomed black heels. She’s the youngest CFO at Griffin’s Publishing House.

But that isn’t the main source of her income. She dabbles in everything. From investments to bonds. Her parents also left her a gigantic trust fund before they passed, which explains her _you only live once_ mindset. So half of the year, she’s either on vacation with her newest boyfriend, or she’s overseas, managing the corporation.

This means I’m often alone at home, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m not afraid of solitude— _only_ that I’ve gotten too used to it.

 _“_ Oh, Tess. You’re the only one for me,” I say to particularly nobody, fanning my fingers over the tan leather of my steering wheel.

My mom once told me wise words that I still think about every now and then.

_Men come and go. What a woman really needs is a car. That way, you always have somewhere to go when you have nowhere to go._

She isn’t wrong. Unfortunately, the men in my life were as fleeting as migrating birds. And my car—Tessa’s going to be around for much longer.

Senior—fucking—year. God forbid if I didn't cherish my mom's wishes so much, I would've never finished high school. My eyes bore into the counselor.

The man has a cherub face, and the rest of his body was plump. The black suit he’d been wearing fit him in a poor, distasteful manner. His eyes are shiny, peering into me as if I‘m the latest, most interesting exhibition.

His hands fidget in his lap, forcing me to dial down the hostility that managed to leak out of my pores.

“Ms. Kang, do you mind? Before you leave, could you answer a question?” He trails off, eyes meeting mine and prodding for permission to continue. I lean back in my seat and raise an eyebrow at the man. Clearing his throat, he tentatively asks, “your mother. Sandra Lee? The successful model that died at a young age from—“

I flinch at the unexpected topic, but in a split second, I regain my composure, forcing my flare of anxiety back down my throat. “I don’t want to be late to class if you don’t mind,” I say, plastering a half-hearted smile. But I’m an imposter because my tone is sharp, and it startles him.

It surprises even me. I clear my throat, forcing out an apology before getting up to leave.

With a nervous breath, he asks me, "don't you think it's amazing how small the world is?" I don't answer it because I pretend he didn't just address it, not bringing up the problem that I pushed down so far. I pretend I don't feel it gasping for air within me. I let it drown because it wasn't worth it.

Not the suffocation. Not the crushing disappointment. None of it was worth it, and it’d been better if things had stayed buried.

But like a fool, I’d missed something. I didn’t expect for his offhand remark to ring true. In a completely different situation, of course. But I hadn’t been prepared, and I definitely didn’t expect for it to bite me in the ass later.

“Welcome to Lincoln High School, dear. I hope you a great year,” he tells me goodheartedly.

I wish he hadn’t counted the eggs before they hatched because the feeling in my gut had said otherwise.

I wander the long hallway of the new, unfamiliar campus. I’m trying to ignore the eyes darting at me from all directions. People point to me as I pass them. Screw pretending to be inconspicuous. It wasn’t like they’d cared that I’d been an actual person who had eyes.

I weave through a crowd, ignoring the catcalls from a group of jocks. My eyes trail past the herds of teenagers, some standing near their lockers, chatting away with their friends. Some busy exchanging their bodily fluids in the more hidden spots of the corridor.

My eyes unconsciously catch onto two boys who don’t seem to be apart of everything else. And it’s like I’m watching still portraits. They stick out like sore thumbs, but no one else seems to care. I’m about to go talk to them when I’m interrupted by a loud voice whizzing by me.

“Mr. Byun!”

Someone pushes past me—no, she quite literally shoves me out of her way. And I’m thrown against the nearest metal lockers by the impact of it. My head, once again, takes another injury. I grimace, rubbing the back of my head, and when I try to stand, a dizzy spell hits me, smack right in the middle of this mess.

“Jisoo,” another voice calls out in exasperation. “I told you to stop running in the hallway.” His voice is chilly— _distant_ like he’s an extraterrestrial creature in the midst of the population of teenagers. He stands out, and there’s just something about him that I can’t wrap my head around.

I’m still hunched over on the ground, clutching my head. His footsteps pad nearby, and I think he’s getting closer to me. He has an arm around me, but it’s ironic the way he’s holding me—like he’s trying to put some space between us. Or maybe he can sense the imposter in me. Whatever that means. I’m losing it, and the dull headache isn’t helping my case.

My eyes refuse to focus on his face, so I resort to staring at his neck. He has a nice neck. Pale. Slender. And his veins show under his skin. I have the urge to reach out to trace the green-blue lines. I wonder if his skin is as soft as it looks.

The girl, apparently named Jisoo, runs over to us. She takes my hands into hers. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Shit. I am so, so sorry. I seriously did not mean to run into you. Are you okay? Oh my god. I don’t think you’re okay. You’re really, really, _really_ pale like worryingly pale—“

Jesus. Does she not understand the concept of shutting up? “I’m fine,” I snipe, cutting through her senseless babbling. I’m sure she’s nice, and she didn’t mean to harm me. But I couldn’t keep listening to her through my headache and the lights. Were the lights always this bright?

My vision stabilizes, and the rolling nausea in my stomach subsides for a beat. I heave a deep breath, lifting my head. I jerk away from the man.

It’s _him_. The man in my dreams. My nightmare. My first love. Everything hits me at once. Resentment. Confusion. Helplessness. I inhale sharply.

Byun Baekhyun.

He looks different. _Good_ different. But I’m too overwhelmed with negative emotions to admire him.

The most noticeable difference about him is his hair. He’d bleached it completely. It looks silvery in the light, but if I squint my eyes, I see _purple_ —but then again, it must be my wonky head inhibiting my eyesight.

Our eyes meet. And his eyes are the same deep brown-black, and the specks in his eyes remind me of chips from mahogany obsidian. Ethereal and just like back then, _unattainable_. His attention is unwavering as he anchors those eyes at me. I’m reminded of the past. How he’d used to try to figure me out without any exchange of words.

Because he didn’t need to. All he needed was a glance. A shiver runs down my spine. Is he reading into me? Can he see the girl that I’ve tried so hard to leave behind?

My gaze falls onto the other parts of his face. His smooth skin. Long lashes. I notice the circular frames perched on top of his nose. He looks older now—definitely thinner too. I strain my eyes, trying to decipher every detail—every difference. And I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s no longer a boy—no, I’m staring into the face of man. He’s all sharp angles.

If you’d told me he was somebody else, I would’ve believed you. Because right now, I _can’t_ see him even if he’s the ghost of the past. _My_ past.

“Can you walk?” He asks me, his tone reserved and cold. And I feel like I’m staring at a winter wonderland. Beautiful, yes, but I can’t approach it without preparing myself. In this case, I didn’t need a coat. What I’d needed was _time_ , but hell, I’d already been pushed into his path once again without my knowledge. Or my _approval_.

I see something flash in his eyes. Something different than the voidness that I’d been receiving for the last few minutes. Recognition, maybe? But if he’d realized who I was, he would’ve said something by then.

I know he’s Baekhyun, but something tells me it isn’t the person I know. Because the person I know wouldn’t be putting this distance between us. My heart pounds, and I reach out to cup his face. He stiffens, but he’s paralyzed from the turn of events. I flash him my dimpled smile, hoping he remembers.

But I get nothing. His eyes are lifeless, and it terrifies me. My fingers spring off of him, and I stammer, “sorry, I’m—“

I’m not able to finish my words because the pulsating headache wins over my consciousness. My head falls, and I feel my resolve weakening as I drop to the ground.

When I open my eyes, I’m immediately startled by steel-blue eyes. The woman yelps, “ah, watch out! You don’t want to hit your head again.”

My hand flies up to my chest as I try to calm my beating heart. “Where am I?” I ask warily, glancing sideways to inspect my surrounding.

She smiles reassuringly. “My name is Milan. You’re in the nurse’s.”

I let my shoulders relax, and I’m pushing myself up out of bed. “Sorry,” I murmur, scratching the nape of my neck.

Milan shakes her head. “You’re fine, honey. Now, I’m going to do a quick exam on you. Make sure you answer my questions to the best of your ability, okay?”

After she checks my cognitive abilities, she seems to look less tense.

I stretch my arms. “Am I good to go now?”

She nods. “You’re perfectly okay. Thank god.” A nervous laugh escapes her as she rubs her hands. “You saved me from doing a ton of paperwork. Long story short, you had a concussion, but you’re okay now, honey. If you have any other questions or if you’re feeling unwell, feel free to come back.”

I hum, my lips twitching. “Can I skip?”

Milan squints at me. “You’re asking me if you want to skip—class?” She says it so conspiratorially that I feel like I’d just asked her to help me hide a body.

I stay silent in case I’m testing my luck, but she breaks into a grin.

“Listen, I’m not condoning that you miss class, _but_ I guess missing the first day doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Relief floods my system. It would’ve been so awkward to walk into class at this time—in the middle of a lecture. When I’d agreed to start a new school, I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention.

Besides, I had a reason that required me to keep my head down. And the reason—well, that’s a story for another day.

I beam at her. “Thanks, Milan—erm, can I call you Mil?”

Milan nods enthusiastically. “Of course, honey.”

We spend the rest of second period striking up small talk. I’d asked her about the school, and she’d briefed me on all the essential information.

Senior parade. Homecoming. SAT dates. You know, the works.

She tells me where she’s from. A suburb girl. And I can see that in her. Milan is conventionally pretty—blonde hair, blue eyes, freckled skin. She speaks casually and comfortably, so it means she had a good childhood. Nothing that would make her reserved.

Unexpectedly, I find myself sharing some aspects of my life too. It was easy talking to her. She didn’t seem too nosy, never pushy. I tell her that I’m technically an orphan. That I’d just recently been adopted.

Milan shows me pity, and I try not to let it rub me the wrong way. It isn’t her fault, per se—when I tell people about my background, there’s almost always a full-body wince. It’s the reason why I stopped talking about myself. Why I didn’t have any friends.

Because of my circumstance, I’d ended up moving every one to two years. It’d depended on the area that I’d be shipped off to. And honestly, my existence had felt like that. Like I was a plastic bag, floating in the wind, with no destination.

But there was a time when I’d felt like I belonged somewhere. When I’d met him. A miracle in a disaster. Love at first sight—you know, the cheesy shit.

[2017; past]

I can’t make out a single thing above the pounding of my heart inside my eardrums. And what’s worse is that I can’t feel a single thing past the raw, blistering heat on my skin. I’d imagined that it’s probably what being forced into a pit of lava feels like.

My knees buckle, and I fall to the floor, hissing when I feel my knees being skinned in the process. I hunch over, dry-heaving as my stomach contents threaten to spill out of me.

My bare skin stings against the heavy wind. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to retain some heat. I glance around me. A sheet of snow stretches across the intersection. Christ. It’s snowing, and I’m in the middle of nowhere, wearing nothing but a torn nightgown.

I sniffle, rubbing away the line of red. It smudges against my pale skin, and no matter how many times I attempt to get it off of me. It’s relentless. Useless. I let my hands lay limb.

And then I collapse on my back, staring up at the dark sky. I can see the stars. I wonder if she’s up there. I let my eyes close, trying to imagine my mom. But I couldn’t remember what she’d looked like anymore. Scoffing, I open them again to see my surrounding.

Heaving a sigh, I ask aloud, “Mom. If you can hear me. Tell me. What should I do now?”

I wait, but there’s nothing. It looks like I’m also crazy from the agony of reality.

Everything hurts. My head throbs. My skin burns. My knees sting. I thrust my hands up in the air, letting it drop with a thud on my chest.

I choke out a laugh. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. What’s the point of living? I exhale, watching the air fog from my warm breath. In a few minutes, I’d probably grow tired, and then I would close my eyes and sleep. Forever.

Am I going to die this easily? Should I have fought harder to live? Push back against the currents that'd constantly attempted to pull me under? What’s the point now? Mom’s dead. I had no one.

Another hour pasts, and it’s so cold that I have to curl into a fetal position, but honestly, it’s pointless. Because I’m going to die.

Or that’s what I’d initially thought. I’d also made up my mind too. But I hear footsteps crunching through the snow.

I could try to get up and run, but I’m probably too weak to fight against this person. Resigned, I lie still. Maybe if I play dead, he wouldn’t have to kill me.

“Are you okay?”

Through my fatigue, I tense, waiting for whatever happens next. Preparing.

“Hey.” I deduct that it’s a man. His voice is a deep, gentle timbre. He sounds like he’d be a good boyfriend. Like one of those nice guys in high school who grow up to be humble millionaires, donating to charity every week or so.

For fuck’s sake, I’m losing my mind.

“If you’re planning to murder me, I’m almost dead, so you can just be on your way,” I croak. Dear me. I sound absolutely wrecked. I’d imagined so if I was lying in the middle of the road, waiting for the Grim Reaper to take me.

He coughs. I turn my head to see him kneeling down beside me. His eyes are determined. “I’m Baekhyun,” he tells me. “I’m not here to kill you.”

I laugh brittlely. “Well, Baekhyun. You certainly don’t look like the Grim Reaper.”

Baekhyun looks conflicted as he decides between maintaining a serious composure or letting his guard down. “Are you cold?” He asks.

I squint my eyes at him. “Really? You’re asking me if I’m cold while I’m half-naked in thirty-degree weather?”

He coughs, cheeks flushed. “Sorry, you’re right.” Baekhyun peels off his sweatshirt, and then he’s helping me sit upright.

My head isn’t prepared for this because I begin to see stars. I’m silent, and he’s silently figuring out what to do next. Should I be worried that I’m probably either going to be murdered or, he’s going to end up saving my life, which means I’ll have to go back _there_.

I shiver. No. I’m going to run away. But the only problem is that I’m in no shape to run. My limbs are trembling from the exertion of _sitting_.

Baekhyun pulls his sweatshirt over me, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by his smell. I get a whiff of wood, spicy, cinnamon, and chocolate—he smells like gingerbread. I’m immediately reminded of my mom. When it’d only been the two of us, spending Christmases cuddling in front of the fireplace, building crappy gingerbread houses, and drinking hot chocolate.

My eyes prick with tears. Goddamn it. He isn’t supposed to feel nostalgic, familiar—for god’s sake, _safe_. Fuck, he could’ve been another Ted Bundy or Jeffery Dahmer for all I know. But I didn’t want to believe that. And the answer is simple.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. He has dark brown hair—artistically messy. I want to thread my fingers in them and feel if they’re as silky as they look. There’s a natural flush over his cheeks. A boy blush. It makes him look younger than he really is. His nose is cute, and even though his lips are pressed in a straight line, there’s a hint of a smile.

He looks like the type of person whose natural attributes include a daily ritual of smiling, and maybe he has a wonderful laugh too—who knows? Actually, why did I even care? I should be more worried about the fact that he’s a stranger. To clarify, I don’t know this man at all; yet, he makes me want to know him.

“Can you walk?” He questions me after a long beat, his eyebrows taut.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried yet,” I reply, waving a dismissive hand.

Baekhyun also looks like the type who deals with people like me on a regular basis. People whose only defense was their witty tongue. Instead of getting annoyed, he reaches for me again. And then he’s helping me stand upright.

My legs are shaking. “In normal circumstances, strangers usually don’t make my knees buckle,” I joke.

His lips twitch. Damn it. He’s smiling. And I’m right. He’s completely ethereal. “I guess I’m special?”

“No, I think it’s because you’re the first person who actually seems to care about me not freezing to death,” I retort, stretching my right arm over his shoulder.

Baekhyun snorts. “What if I wasn’t the first person to save you?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Then I’d beg to differ.”

“Why’s that?”

I lift a brow in his direction. “Maybe because they’d probably be creepy old men.”

“What if I’m a creepy old man?”

“You’d be one _hot_ creepy old man,” I answer with a dimpled smile.

He ignores that, and we begin to walk to his car. I take the first step and almost face plant into the snow again. Baekhyun jumps to catch me, his hands steady around my waist.

I exhale sharply. “Thanks,” I blurt, attempting not to think about my face pressed against his chest. He smells exquisite—like everything I had mentioned but more intense.

“That could’ve been bad,” he agrees. Then, he scratches his chin, pondering his options. “Let’s try this instead.”

Before I can ask him what he means, he hoists me up into the air. I yelp in surprise. Oh, okay. This could work too. “You feel…human,” I tell him.

He chuckles. “What did you think I would feel like?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I guess—not human. You’re too pretty to be real.”

Baekhyun tsks. “Normally, teenagers shouldn’t hit on older guys.”

I hum, “I thought we already established the fact that you’re special.”

“Thanks, but I’m also trying to avoid jail time.”

Something in my chest blossoms. And I'm scared shitless at this strange reaction. My fingers twist at the edge of his hoodie, and I resort to silence, pressing into his neck.

A low chuckle vibrates against my cheeks, my chest warming from the honey-like sounds. “Let’s go _home_.”


	2. arcane

**[baekhyun]**   
  


Baekhyun genuinely enjoys making people uncomfortable. That had been the only fun part of his unofficial job description. Quite frankly, it hadn’t been that difficult for him to be an asshole. He hates his job, but between being personally assaulted by lifeless shrinks and teaching asshole kids—the latter had seemed like it’d been the better option.

After he lost his memories from the accident, he’d been an empty shell. Work had been the least of his concern. His best friend, Chanyeol, had tried to get him out of his slump (or that was what Chanyeol had called it; Baekhyun begs to differ).

He hadn’t been in a slump. After the car wreck, he didn’t see a point in living anymore. Everything he’d loved perished in the car accident along with his soul.

At the end of the day, Baekhyun didn’t need a fortune. He’d only needed a measly salary to keep his day to day lifestyle.

To pass time, pissing people off became his hobby. His father had wanted a groomed, proper son. Fuck his father. He’d opted to do the opposite.

Baekhyun sports a dangle earring—the shape of a cross—which is ironic in itself. He didn’t believe in any high powers. Not after what happened two years ago. _No,_ because if God had existed, his prayers wouldn’t have slipped out the other ear. It would’ve been listened to—contemplated—not left in the dust with his dead soul.

It didn’t matter what the meaning had been to him. He’d only worn it to spite the principal and other teachers. If he’d been fired from another job, his father had plenty of other options that he’d forcibly make Baekhyun take.

He scoffs in disgust. His soul hadn’t been the only thing that he’d lost in the accident. He lost his individuality. His opinions. His resolve. Every fucking thing that had mattered to other people.

Byun Baekhyun is a puppet, and sadly, he’s probably going to live out the rest of his life with his two best buddies—cynicism and debauchery.

“Mr. Byun,” the principal’s clipped tone sounds from behind him.

Baekhyun turns a half-step, eyebrows cocked. “Yes?” He levels a bored expression at the older man, daring the latter to say something.

The principal, a cherub-like man with the usual uninteresting variety of salt and pepper hair, simply offers Baekhyun a brittle smile. “Good morning,” is all he says.

Baekhyun easily forces a fake smile onto his lips. Idiots couldn’t tell the difference, and his boss isn’t above being one.

“Have a good day,” he says, not bothering to offer the principal another glance. And then he’s walking down the corridor toward his classroom.

On the way, a familiar student—what was her name again? Right, Kim Jisoo. The only thing that really stood out about her is her face, and everything else? He isn’t interested. And of course, Baekhyun’s a sleaze bag, but he isn’t inclined to ruin his entire life on a kid.

She dashes toward him, much like a puppy would to her master. His eyebrows knit together, unimpressed with the loud commotion of Jisoo ramming into her peer.

Sighing exasperatedly, he moves to check on the two of them, now sprawled on the floor. Jisoo had seemed fine enough, evident by her endless chattering. Baekhyun’s ear is bleeding, but he’s good at pretending otherwise.

He kneels beside the other girl, the one clutching her head. She doesn’t look like she’s doing very well. Her face is a sick shade of pale, and she appears to be close to hurling her breakfast all over the linoleum floor. All he can say about that is that the janitor would most likely have a field day dealing with chunky vomit the moment they begin their day.

To prevent any future vomit-inducing events, he puts his arms around the girl, attempting to gauge her wellbeing. “Can you walk?” He asks warily.

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, her eyes stop below his face, and she’s definitely out of it. He feels a tinge of irritation.

And then she finally looks at him after a long beat of unsettling silence. Baekhyun is hit with raw emotions out of nowhere. And it’s unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Hell, he’d initially thought that he’d lost all sense of feelings after almost dying, but here he is being proven wrong for the first time.

And to be completely honest, he didn’t know how he’d felt about this sudden revelation. He feels anxiety prickling at his heart, and he forcefully snuffs it—not that it would show on his face because if there’s one thing he excels at, it’s having a damn good facade.

But for some reason, he could feel the literal racing of his heart when the girl tilts her head, her eyes scrutinizing his appearance. Baekhyun squirms, and he’s never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin than right now and that was saying a lot after witnessing Chanyeol and Miyoung offering him a threesome. He’d liked the prospect of having sex, but just not with his best friends involved.

But that is beside the point. His biggest problem is the girl in front of him who is trying to read his entire life in the span of five minutes. And yes, he did have a big problem with that. He didn’t like nosy people, and this girl had seemed to be more irritating than his babbling student that he’d known since last year.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when the girl reaches out to cup his face. Her palms are warm, and he feels every cell in his body fire up like she’d just electrocuted him. His nerves are fried, and he doesn’t appreciate the way his eyes fall to her lips almost immediately.

Baekhyun has never seen lips so red like hers. She’d been blessed with naturally pouty lips—lips that had looked like they would’ve given fantastic blowjobs. And he couldn’t help but wonder what her lips would taste like—maybe what’d they feel like between his teeth.

He’d noticed that she’d been a pretty face—but something about her had been different. She didn’t seem like Jisoo or any of her female peers.

_Fuck_. Baekhyun hadn’t been prepared for what had happened next. And he’d been pretty damn sure that he would never be prepared if she did it again.

And she _should_ do it again. She should do it to everyone she meets, but his stomach protests this. A weird possessiveness grips him, and he realizes that he _doesn’t_ want her to show her dimples to anyone else.

His heart twists and flops around like a dead fish. _Fuck_. He wonders how many guys got to kiss those dimples.

He’d underestimated her beauty for sure, and this girl’s probably underaged and he could likely end up in prison for these impure thoughts—thoughts that related to the blood pooling in his lower region, mind you.

Apprehension flashes in his head. His mouth dries at the thought that she could make him feel like this in one single moment. Baekhyun had always regulated himself, even as far as guarding his own thoughts. And _never_ once had the topic of his students and _lust_ had graced his thoughts together—at the same time.

This is probably a sign that he should get laid because his dry-spell has to be the only cause of his perverse reaction.

She jerks her hands away from his face, her eyes widening like she’d been a deer caught in headlights. Baekhyun had thought that he’d go back to normal after she’d stopped touching him, but it only had the opposite effect. Strangely, he’d wanted to feel her again. His wish comes true in a way that he didn’t expect. The girl loses consciousness and falls forward.

Baekhyun grabs her before she lands on the ground. He’d lost track of Jisoo’s rambling, and when he turns to her, she’d still been talking. Well, unfortunately for her, he’d tuned her out by habit.

“I’m taking her to the infirmary. Tell the class to behave,” he announces, cutting Jisoo short.

She nods curtly and turns to head in the direction of his classroom. Heaving a sigh, he lifts the unconscious girl in his arms and begins carrying her to the nurse’s.

“ _Baekhyun_.”

By instinct, he follows the voice only to realize that the girl in his arms had been the one to utter it. He narrows his eyes, not believing his ears. Every possibility of her knowing his name is _impossible_.

The girl remains unconscious and quiet throughout the rest of the way. Baekhyun falls back on the prospect that he’d just misheard her. But for some reason, it doesn’t erase the unsettling feeling in his gut.

[2017; past]

Baekhyun paces back and forth in front of his bedroom. He’d wracked his brain a million times to figure out a way to make her eat without being too demanding. The more time had passed, the more stupid he’d felt. Christ. He’s an adult, and she’s a child. What had he been so afraid of?

“Will you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy,” she grumbles.

He clears his throat awkwardly. Well, shit. Turning the doorknob, he peeks his head inside of his room. “You need to eat something,” he tells her, but his resolve weakens once he sees her lying on the floor curled up in a fetus position. “Is the bed not comfortable?”

Her eyes survey him, and the way she’d looked at him—he shivers—he’d never felt so naked and Baekhyun had been fully dressed, mind you.

There’s wariness in her eyes, but inside, he can also make out tiny swirls of mischief. Maybe he’d been reading too much into this but it’d seemed like they were on the same page, each wanting to figure the other person out.

What had been the reason for her to hang out in the middle of the road at an ungodly hour? The only reason he’d met her had been a pure and lucky coincidence. Baekhyun had been nearby with Chanyeol in a bar. He'd drunk a bit, but mostly, he’d been sober enough to walk home.

His eyes fall back onto her, drifting downward as he does an assessment of his own. She’s wearing his t-shirt, and it’s long on her—maybe reaching down four or five inches above her knee. Inadvertently, his eyes had roamed down lower and settled onto her pale milky legs.

He covers the side of his neck instinctually, afraid that she could see how hard his nerves were pulsating.

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, revealing the deep set of dimples. Dimples that had looked like they haven’t seen the surface of the world in a while. Kind of rusty and could use a little more practice. But fucking hell, it’d made him feel a type of a way he’d never felt before.

Not one or two butterflies, but a whole damn zoo had blossomed within his abdominal walls.

“It feels like I’m intruding your personal space,” she tells him, rolling flat on her back. She’d stopped looking at him, but Baekhyun couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Shit, he’s completely screwed.

Closing his eyes to regain himself, he takes a deep breath. “Aren’t you cold though?”

She snorts. “You found me lying in the snow, Bae.”

_Bae._

Yeah. No. Baekhyun is no longer okay. He’s not okay with the fact that she’d already dubbed him with her own special version of his name, and it’d sounded like she’d been born purely for the purpose of calling him that.

_Damn it. Baekhyun. Stop it. She’s a kid._

“Touché,” he quips. Crossing his arms, he leans back against the door. “Get up.”

She turns on her side, meeting his eyes again. The fabric of his shirt bunches on her stomach, revealing more of her thighs. He has to pinch himself to look away. “Why should I? It’s really comfortable down here. Wanna try it out with me?”

As tempted as he’d been, Baekhyun had morals, and he also had to make sure she ate something or she’d die on him before he could get rid of her.

Okay. That had been mean, and he didn’t really mean that. He’s just having a really hard time trying to think clean thoughts.

“I’m good and don’t make me repeat myself twice. You _have_ to eat,” he articulates.

The younger laughs—and fuck, if he’d thought that he’d seen it all, Byun Baekhyun had known _nothing_. Her laugh is undeniably the prettiest thing he’d ever heard, and she’d been turning him into a pile of pathetic goo since the moment he’d laid his eyes on her.

Not helping.

“I’m not hungry,” she says, and then the sound of her stomach growling echoes against the walls of his bedroom.

His lips twitch as she hides her face in mortification. “Your stomach doesn’t seem to agree, wise girl.”

She pushes herself off of his floor in a huff and stomps past him. So he hadn’t been imagining it. She’d smell like melted vanilla ice cream—the kind you could easily sip with a straw. So yes, Baekhyun did want to drink her. And yes, in the creepiest way possible.

He smacks himself on the cheek lightly. Baekhyun needs to get a grip before he does something he will absolutely regret.

“Hope you like pizza,” he hollers from his spot.

She flips him off, plopping on his couch and helping herself to a slice.

Baekhyun settles across from her on the rug. He props an elbow on his cherry coffee table. Then, he’s looking at her again. Something that he’d never get tired of doing.

She’s definitely a kid. He could tell by her unkempt hair and the constant red flush in her cheeks. Also, she’d acted like one too. But Baekhyun had found it attractive. Strange. But everything he'd felt after meeting her had been strange, so it'd just been _pleasant_ revelations one after another. Just like he’d found her short legs cute and her dimples—they'd probably been his favorite thing about her.

Other than her snappy attitude which he’d found cute too.

“Are you planning on giving up your name?” Baekhyun asks, picking at the cheese on his slice.

She stops chewing, blinking rapidly at him. “Guess,” she says through her full mouth.

“Swallow,” he tells her.

The younger girl bites back a smile. “I’m pretty good at swallowing,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows.

Baekhyun tries not to imagine the scenario of what she’d meant. Actually, he knows what she means, but he’d rather not accidentally wander into illegal territory. “I can’t guess your name. There’s practically billions out there.”

“Exactly, you should work for it,” she tells him.

He sighs, pinching his temple. “I’m going to bring you to the police station tomorrow. If I don’t know your name, that’s going to raise some red flags.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “You’re going to abandon me?”

Baekhyun feels his chest pang. “What? No—“

She drops her slice back into the box. “I’m going to leave.”

He stands to follow her. “It’s _late_. You can’t just leave.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Baekhyun. It’s better if I just get out of your hair now rather than tomorrow.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he protests, grabbing her arm.

She sighs. “Let me go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You _have_ to,” she demands, shooting him a feisty glare.

“Last time I checked, it’s not a written law. Tough luck,” he snarks.

She scoffs, pausing her struggle against him, “You can’t take me to the police station. I don’t want to go back.”

Baekhyun squints his eyes at her. “Go back to where?”

“ _Nunya_.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a child.”

“That’s because I am one, grandpa. Now get off of me.”

“No,” he deadpans.

“Can’t you just trust me this once? I have a legit reason.”

His brow lifts. “A reason that you can’t tell me?”

“Congratulations.” She claps. “What prize would ya’ like with that?”

Resigned, he lets her arm go. “I won’t take you to the police station.”

Her eyes narrow. “And the catch?”

Baekhyun snorts. “Do I look like someone who takes advantage of a _kid_?”

Something flashes in her eyes, and in a heartbeat, she pushes him against the nearest wall. His breath catches, and she purses her lips in a thin line, revealing a single dimple. The back of her forearm presses against his throat—lightly but very, very deadly.

“Listen, _Bae—_ ” And at this moment, he realizes that he doesn’t like the nickname in this context because it feels like she’s using it to belittle him. As if he’s the _little_ boy with a pet name—something that a mother would usually give. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t look down on me because _yes_ , I may be a midget, but I can tear you a nasty one if you don’t watch your back. And we don’t want to see that, do we?”

Baekhyun can only nod because he’s afraid to find out otherwise.

A wicked smile curls onto her lips, and she lets him go. “Good boy.”

He stares at the girl who has now inhibit his peaceful life, and he had no doubt that his usual routine would be smashed to bits with her around now. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he should be afraid for his life or excited at the prospect.

[2019-2020; present]

Baekhyun’s eyes slowly flutter open to the pale white wall. Sighing, he throws the covers off of him. A groan escapes from his mouth when he’s pleasantly greeted by his unwelcome morning wood.

He did not just get a boner from being threatened by someone—by a little girl, no less. What the hell is happening?

Leaning against the back wall, he briefly closes his eyes. It’s always the same dream about the _same_ girl.

The only difference was, this time, he’d known who the girl is. The very girl he’d carried to the infirmary the other day. _Now_ , the only question remains.

_Who the fuck is she?_

His footsteps echo through the hallway of the empty school. He’s late. But Baekhyun couldn’t care less. Not when he had an unanswered question and on top of that, an annoying erection that’d taken forever to take care of.

He pushes his classroom door open and watches his student yelp in surprise, jumping in their seats. “Lovely morning,” he says sarcastically, letting the door shut behind him.

His students quiet down because a) after attending his class for two weeks, they’d been attuned to his mood swings and b) they’d been too scared to test him.

Baekhyun ignores the intrusive stares from the rest of the female population—all but one, the sleeping girl in the back of the room. Everyone traces his gaze back to her, and the steady hum of their conspiratorial whispering fills his classroom.

He’d already been irritated and seeing the plain disrespect only made it worse. Baekhyun weaves past the backpacks messily strewn in the aisles and stops beside the main perpetrator of his pissy mood.

He clears his throat. Nothing.

He knocks on her desk. Nothing.

Finally, Baekhyun tugs her chair back, and he watches her flail her arms around, waking with a startled yelp. He lets go and the chair thumps back onto all of its legs.

When she meets his gaze, the two of them engage in a glaring match. Baekhyun is even more pissed because he realizes that it’s the same girl from the other day and the same girl from his dream. And now, here she is, in his classroom—ready to turn his life into disarray.

Maybe he’s being too harsh on her. Maybe she didn’t deserve his temperament. Scratch that, she’d just blatantly yawned in front of him, flickering a look of boredom—one that Baekhyun is very familiar with because he’d done it himself so many times.

She’s the same defiant girl in his dream, and both of them are blurring together and it gives him major whiplash.

“Don’t sleep in my class,” he warns.

She squints her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she retaliates.

“It’s my classroom.”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

“I’m a teacher. I don’t need to put a name on it.”

“Are you sure? You seem overqualified to be one.”

Baekhyun stiffens. What the fuck? “Listen, stop acting as if you know me. You’re a high school student. That’s your reality, wise girl.”

Her mouth falls open as she blinks rapidly at him. He bites his lips. Shit. He didn’t mean to call her that. He curses himself and the dream and all of his other misfortunes—specifically the one that’d included having her on his roster.

She regains her composure and leans back into her seat, trying to establish some dominance. He isn’t a fool. And he refuses to give in to her power play. “Listen, Mr. Byun. I think you need to lay off the alcohol. It’s clouding your vision and the beer gut—not a good look. Clearly, you’re mistaking this as your playground. I’m not here to cause any trouble so if you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours. Are we clear?”

Baekhyun clenches his jaw. The audacity of this girl is astronomical. And he is seconds away from snapping her desk in half. “Stay after class,” is the only thing he says before pivoting on his feet to begin class.

He has never met such a pain in the ass, and he didn’t understand why she got to him. People couldn’t sway him. No one could make him mad. As far as he’d known, the most he’d felt about someone had been disinterest. He’d never been this resentful before, and it’d scared the hell out of him.

Just _who_ in the hell is this girl?


	3. insular

**[haeeun]**

Saying that I’m unprepared to see Byun Baekhyun is an understatement of the century. A big fucking one. My heart thuds in my chest, slamming against my rib cage. Can he hear it? I squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

It isn’t an understatement when I say that the dread had spread through me like wildfire. I thought yesterday had been a dream or a result of my multiple head injuries. Because I’d missed him so much.

Two years may seem like a long time, but to me, it’d been the most inconsequential. Now that I’m sitting in a desk, staring up at a lecturing Baekhyun. It hits me. Full blast. I’m suddenly his student, and he’s my goddamn high school teacher. What kind of twisted game is the universe playing at?

Even now, I’m still not ready to forgive him. My wound is still seeping with fresh blood, and I want revenge. It isn’t fair that he can stand across from me—act like I hadn’t been apart of his life when I’d been a damn _big_ part. If his presence had left such big holes in me, how can he stand there looking so seemingly normal? Unscathed, even.

And although it’d be a dream for me to climb onto his lap and let him whisper sweet nothings in my ear, it’s something I can’t afford to do anymore.

I sit up from my restless nap and tune into his lecture. His voice is still silk to my ears. It reverberates inside of my bones. I can’t escape it even if I cover my ears. I can feel it everywhere. I know how it feels on my skin—that, I’d known pretty fucking well.

I hate Byun Baekhyun, but I hate myself even more for wanting to muffle that voice with my mouth. Scoffing, I quickly realize I’m just like all the girls around me. We’re swooning like thirteen-year-olds for someone we know we can’t attain.

I can’t—I _shouldn’t_ be wishing for him. Baekhyun’s eyes decidedly fall on me, and he locks his gaze—staring unrelentingly. I lean back into my chair and give him the bird. It only makes his already reserved facial expression ten times of that. Asshole.

If he’d wanted to play the _we'd never exchanged bodily fluids_ _before_ game, then so be it. I’m going to humor him because there’s no fucking way I’m bringing up the past between us. Not when he’s decidedly cut me out of his life like I’d been nothing.

The anger I feel is paralyzing. It takes over me in ways that I’m ashamed to admit. It keeps me up at night as I wonder how many different ways I can murder him all over again. Right now, it makes it hard for me to tear my gaze from him as he talks about limits and the basics of differentials.

And Kang Haeeun had a reputation for not paying attention in class. To make matters worse, he won’t stop looking at me. What does he want? More importantly, what’s his play?

[2017; past]

“Get up.” His voice reverberates outside his door.

I roll my eyes. I’d already been up since five. I hadn’t been a big sleeper because my previous caretaker had me on schedule. My body clock is still used to it, and it only makes me hate myself more. I ignore Baekhyun at the door. Not because he’d done something to warrant that. But because I hadn’t been ready to get up.

So be it if I’d wanted to let myself rot away for the rest of my life. And besides, there’s no way he’d try to push me.

Well, he’d proven me wrong by opening his door. I sigh, grabbing his covers and drowning myself in it.

“You can’t sleep all day,” he tells me.

I ignore him and listen to his quiet footsteps padding toward me from across the room. He stands over me—at least that’s what I’m guessing from the shadow. He yanks off the covers, and I stare back into his eyes, sending the message clear as day— _leave me alone._

Baekhyun pushes his lips into a thin line as he grabs my arm. “You heard me the first time,” he warns.

I stretch my legs out, hooking them between his and pulling him. He falls squarely on top of me with a nervous yelp. He struggles against me, but I’ve already locked my legs around him. “Sorry I couldn’t hear you. What was that?” I taunt, staring into his eyes.

Baekhyun does not look happy. In fact, I’d be lucky if I hadn’t been dead from his glare. “Let me go,” he demands.

I hum, “if you promise to get off of my ass.”

“I can’t do that,” he retorts.

“And why’s that?”

“Because my place, my rules.”

Oh, so he’s one of those men. Men who had a regular routine. Men who’d wanted everything in line. _Perfect_. Nothing ever straying from its path. They’d followed a plan. And his plan hadn’t included me.

I shiver as his breath fans my face. Baekhyun is trembling. Why is he shaking? I tilt my head—not to kiss him but to scrutinize him. He’d been such a mystery. I’d never met someone who’d been so anal about everything.

Most of my foster parents let me do whatever the hell I’d wanted even if that had entailed ditching my responsibilities—skipping school, getting drunk, and fucking around with boys. I would have crackhead friends because they were easiest to be around. They’d always been too high to pry into my life.

I didn’t want anyone knowing or owning _any_ part of me. And this man—currently on top of me with his weight pressing so perfectly on me that I’m surprised I hadn’t done anything other than stare—had been an anomaly. He’s a variable I’m not ready to allow inside my circle.

“Police station,” he notes.

I lean my body to the right, pushing him on his back. He falls with a thud, and I can feel his heartbeat racing, mirroring mine. I smirk. “Don’t threaten me if you can’t even get out of—“ I’m not able to finish my words when I’m the one pinned in a blink of an eye.

His pupils have dropped further down in the color wheel—almost _black_ with—what is it? Lust? Irritation? I couldn’t tell you.

My momentary triumph falls away as quickly as it’d made an appearance. I understand it now. He’d been humoring me for the past two days when he could’ve easily made me fall in line. I swallow, biting my lips. And I’m not stupid. I see the way his eyes immediately drop to my lips.

My ex-boyfriends had always told me that I had the perfect mouth to do the dirty, and at this moment, I couldn’t help but agree with them. Is Baekhyun thinking about what it’d be like to see my red lips wrapped around his cock?

His eyes return to mine, and there’s a flare of viciousness. As if he’d been between wanting to skin me alive and fucking the absolute hell out of me. I unconsciously hope for the latter, but like I said, I’m dangerous. And Baekhyun didn’t seem like the guy who’d been drawn to that.

“Police station,” he repeats, this time, his voice barely a whisper.

I feel a shudder run down my spine. I suddenly want to taste it. I _want_ to taste every word as he forms them. “What do you want?” I relent, my arms falling flaccid beside me.

Baekhyun finally stops tensing, and he leans in, stealing more of my air. “I want you to stop being a freeloader. I’d agreed to take you in, but that doesn’t mean you don’t go to school. I’m enrolling you in high school, and you’re starting tomorrow.”

My jaw clenches. “Anything else?”

“Don’t act as if you run this place now. I still have the upper hand, and you’re in my mercy, _remember_ that.”

I scoff. “Can you get off now?” I pretend that it personally offends me, but his body is anything but offensive. He’s strong—lean but he has muscles. I want to run my hands on his skin, feeling every fiber tense under my fingertips. But I don’t do that. Because he’s right. I’m at his mercy, and I’d be damned if I’m forced to go back to that godforsaken place.

Baekhyun easily returns to his initial position. His eyes have softened drastically, and I’m hard amazed and half terrified by his duality. “So,” he begins, dusting off his hands. “Breakfast?” He asks nonchalantly—as if the man hadn't just pinned me on his bed and blatantly stared at my lips looking damn close to capturing them.

I push myself up, plastering a smile. “Whatever.”

He lifts a brow. “Don’t bother smiling if you don’t mean it.”

My heart lurches, and I’d wanted to ask how he knew that. No one could tell. At least no one _before_ him. “Why? I thought you liked my smile.”

Baekhyun tilts his head, eyes serious. “You have a gorgeous smile, don’t get me wrong. Just not when you’re feigning it.”

“How would you know it’s fake?” I blurt.

He’s close again, bending over to meet my eye level. “Because when you’re actually smiling, your nose crinkles.” His breath fans my face, and goosebumps chase the surface of my skin—every single square inch.

I force myself to look away. “Creep.”

He chuckles, pulling back. “Well, this creep is now in charge of raising a feisty teenager. So if you were me, I’d probably go easy on the attitude.”

I huff. “Fuck off.”

“I’ll gladly do just that after I make sure you don’t starve to death.”

When I meet his eyes, his lips are upturned and it’s astonishing. The effect that his smile has on my heart. I pull my knees up to my chest, attempting to hide the fact that I’m having a heart attack.

“You’re so uptight,” I deadpan.

Baekhyun snorts. “You just realized that, wise girl?”

[2019-2020; present]

“ _Ah_ , it’s been a while since I’ve seen a student who could sleep with her eyes closed.”

I jerk away from the flashback, my eyes refocusing on reality. Yes. The irritating reality at hand. I harshly get out of my seat, pulling my bag close. “Thanks, I have other talents too, but I’m sure you’re not interested.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “You’re right. I don’t care.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Does that mean I’m free to leave?”

“Absolutely not. Get your ass up here.”

With gritted teeth, I stomp up to his desk. He’s sitting lazily, but his movements are elaborate. He’s trying to win the power struggle between us by acting as if he’d truly been indifferent. My pride stings. “Yes?”

“Kang Haeeun,” he finally says after a long stretch of silence.

My resolve falters when I hear my name leave his lips. God, I’d missed it. The sound of my name rolling off of his tongue. “Byun Baekhyun,” I retort, mirroring his tone.

Resentment glints in his eyes. Well, that certainly makes the two of us. “That’s Mr. Byun to you, Kang.”

I roll my eyes. “Do I look like I care enough to tickle your fancy?”

“My classroom, my rules.”

The words make my stomach twist and I feel like hurling all over him. I lean closer until we’re only a few inches away. His eyes flit down to my lips again before he meets my eyes. My mouth twists with smug triumph. “I make my own rules, Mr. Byun.”

Baekhyun jerks away from me, and he looks one hundred percent ready to drag my bludgeoned body down the hallway. “This is your last warning, Kang.”

I laugh haughtily. “Why? What are you going to do? Give me detention? Call my mommy and tell her I misbehaved? I’m not scared of you.”

The corner of his lips curls into a blood-chilling smile. “I can see that, but I’m also not stupid. I’ve been at this for a year and a half. I know how to make bad girls fall in line, and lucky for you, I’m fucking fantastic at it.”

It’s like he’s offering a piece of candy on his palm, and I can’t believe it. I cannot believe that I want to take the piece of candy, unwrap it slowly and make him watch me eat it. I bite the inside of my cheeks. “Can’t wait, Mr. Byun. But here’s some friendly advice; it’s going to take a bit more effort than shoving empty words down my throat. I’m a hard woman to please, and if it ain’t bending me over your desk, you’re already out of luck.”

With a sarcastic smile, I throw a lazy wave in his direction. Then, I’m out of the there, burned by the intensity of his glare.

Lunch is miserable. It’s always been. I’ve attended several schools, and I can’t tell what’s worse. My impending headache after my reunion with Baekhyun or the hunger burning a hole in my stomach.

I peek inside my bag, and there’s a granola bar that looks suspiciously like it hadn’t been living in my backpack for an eternity. My mind seems to think better of it, but stomach protests. I give in and swallow the thing in two large bites. I scrunch my face. Yep. I’d been right, and I could feel the effects food poisoning simmering inside of my stomach.

I continue my ambling outside the school building. So far there’d been three buildings surrounding the gigantic courtyard.

I had two of my classes in the B (dubbed as the English building and other elective classes) and S building (dubbed as the science building, each classroom with its own lab and other safety hazards), and one on an open platform with portables on each respective side, each containing a class. Baekhyun’s lovely AP Calculus class had been situated in the middle of the platform. It’d been where I can assume all the other math classes were situated as well.

I remember seeing a large track around an equally massive football field near the front of the school during my brief tour with the pudgy counselor. The small memory leads me to the exact spot of the maroon-colored track. I let myself stretch and warm-up before I search my bag for a hair tie.

After throwing my hair into a ponytail, I toss my bag onto the metal gates. I ignore the stares that I get from other students, some strewn here and there on the metal bleachers on either side of the football field.

There had been other students lying in the middle of the field on their laptops, which has been abandoned as they scrutinize me.

I peel off my sweatshirt, and then for the first time in a while, I’m running. I’m not the one to chase my pain away with drugs. Occasionally, I can drink it out, but there’s not a drop of booze on this campus. Running became my anchor.

I’m addicted to the way the wind seems to push back against me—like it’s telling me to give up. But metaphorically and literally, I won’t stop running against the currents. If I stop even for a second, my past will catch up to me, and it’ll undeniably drag me under—wreck me until I’m no longer Kang Haeeun, not even this phony version of myself.

I’m also addicted to the way my lungs burn. It distributes the pain in my chest, and I become lost in running that it’s the one place my thoughts don’t plague me.

After completing a quick mile, I hunch over, panting for air. The sweat sticks to my back, and the sun continues to harshly beat down on my skin. I can see the appearance of sunburns beginning to form on my arm. Well, fuck. Today has been one great thing after another.

“Want some?” A voice breaks through the solitude, and I jolt. Looking up to the bleachers on the other side, I see two guys smiling down at me. The one that spoke is waving a water bottle.

My eyes widen. They’re the two boys that I’d seen on my first day. The still portraits. The ones who were unaffected by everything around them. The bustling of our peers unapologetically pushing people out the way. The pointed stares directed to them as girls had cooed over the bronze-skinned boy whose attention didn’t deviate from his friend for even a minute.

With reluctance, I query, “Is that okay?”

The smaller boy with doe eyes snorts. “Unless you have oral herpes, then, in that case, Jongin, don’t give it to her.”

The boy beside him laughs, shaking his head. “Who wouldn’t want an indirect kiss from a red pair of lips like yours?”

“Very smooth, dumbass. Hi, I’m Kyungsoo and this moron is Jongin. Nice to meet you.” He does a show of curtsying with his hands, and I already like him.

“Haeeun,” I reply, returning a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

Kyungsoo pats the seat below the two of them, and I plop down with a satisfied groan. Turning back to them, I reach for Jongin’s water bottle and take large heaping gulps. After a beat, I ask, “so why did you choose to sit out here in the sun?”

Jongin chuckles. “Says the girl who self-voluntarily ran laps during lunch.”

Kyungsoo squints his eyes at me. “I’ve never you seen around before.” Then, he hums, “you must be new.”

I nod stiffly. “Erm—yeah. I transferred here for my senior year.”

He snaps his fingers. “You’re the girl who ran her mouth in front of Mr. Byun during first.”

I frown. “How did you know?”

Jongin laughs, clapping his hands loudly. “Oh my god, we were both there. You’re so fearless. I’d never seen anyone go head to head with Mr. Byun before.”

“Because he’s an arrogant son of a bitch who needs to be taken down a notch,” I reason, waving my hands dismissively.

Kyungsoo’s lip twitches. “Actually, I’d like to be able to graduate this year, thank you very much.”

Jongin snorts. “Kyung, I’m sure if you snorted a line of coke down the hallway, no one would turn their heads.” Then, he relays to me, “Kyung, here, is salutatorian.”

I jut my lips out in awe. “Why not valedictorian?”

“Oh Sehun has that title. He’s been first in our class since the beginning of time,” Kyungsoo elaborates.

Jongin squints his eyes at me. “I like you. I think I’m gonna keep you.”

“I’m not a toy,” I note.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “It’s his way of asking you if you want to be friends. And as you can tell, he’s a caveman, excuse him.”

I bite my lips, glancing sideways. “I don’t really—uh—make friends.”

Jongin grins. “That’s cool. Would you prefer sleeping with me?”

And honestly, I don’t think he’s referring to a sleepover. Kyungsoo slaps a hand over his arm, ignoring the yelp of pain beside him. “Sorry, I would disown him, but then that means he’d embarrassed himself in front of his suitors.”

I laugh delightfully. “Sorry, Jongin. I’m actually not interested in any relationships.”

“I’m asking for sex.”

“And I said _any_ relationships.” And at this moment, Kyungsoo drags his hawkish gaze across my entire body. I wrinkle my face. “ _What?_ ”

He points a jagged finger at me. “You know, we’re really picky about friendship extension. This bastard—” He directs toward Jongin. “—can get any girl to screw him. And, trust me, I’m not about to third wheel ever again. So I’m just fucking speechless that you’re the only one who hasn’t thrown her panties away at the sight of him.”

I tsk. “Girls here must have low standards.”

Jongin gasps. “Hey! Not nice.”

Kyungsoo’s lip twitches as he holds his palm up in the air. I slap a high-five. Yeah, I had a feeling we were going to be best friends starting today.

“So if we’re laughing like this, friends?” I offer.

The three of us share a mutual look of respect, and then Jongin says, “That will do for now.” Kyungsoo elbows him. “Leave me be!” He whines, and Kyungsoo and I share a laugh.

“Like I said, I’m not looking for anything,” I articulate, and it comes out fluidly. It’s an answer I’m used to giving. I’ve learned to ignore the hurt in their eyes when I have to say it. Sometimes it goes well and they give up. Other times. Well, let’s just say I’ve been called a prude. But trust me when I say that I am so far on the other spectrum.

“Nice try anyway, Jongin.” Kyungsoo pats the boy on the back, but he doesn’t look bothered by it.

Shooting me a smile that I’m sure he’s given a million other girls, he proceeds to sigh theatrically. “Damn, the only girl I ever wanted is taken.”

My smile drops, and Kyungsoo seems to get the gist of what’s going on even without me having to express it. With a slightly threatening smile, he gently prods, “Jong, you realize that not every girl is interested in jumping in bed with you? And she doesn’t have to have a label on her to say _no_.”

Jongin notices the tense atmosphere, and he immediately shakes his head. “Shit, I’m not insinuating that I’m the only guy in this world and that you have no choice but to be with me. Look, I’m replaying what I just said, and I sound like a grade-A asshole. My bad. _Really_.”

“That’s okay,” I respond breezily.

Kyungsoo scrunches his nose. “In my opinion, I think you let him off too easily. He’s not used to having his ego bruised.”

“Kyung, you hurt me,” Jongin says, hitting his chest and fake sniffling. “Anyway, duty calls. I think Becca wants me to doggy style her in the reference. Nice meeting you, Haeeun!” His jeer fades when he jumps down the bleachers and skips toward the school building.

I quirk a curious eyebrow. “The reference?”

Kyungsoo squirms beside me, sighing exasperatedly. “It’s the reference section in our library. No one comes back there, so a year ago, some upperclassman started a tradition of screwing back there. Nowadays, people know not to go back there unless they want to engage in a threesome.”

“Ah, duly noted. I will make use of it when needed.”

He blinks at me.

“What? I’m not as innocent as I look, okay?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “That’s not was I was implying—uh never mind,” he frets.

I laugh, nudging him. “So, Jongin, huh?”

He feigns, “what are you going on about?”

“I wonder if Becca and Jongin are up for a threesome. I’m kind of in the mood—aha!” I wiggle my fingers at a glaring Kyungsoo. “I’m right, aren’t I? You like him.”

Kyungsoo uncomfortably turns away. “I don’t like him. He’s—Jongin.”

I snort. “You can tell me that you want to make out with him, and I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.”

The boy caves and breaks into a good-humored laugh. “I hate you.”

I throw my arms around him. “We can be dick-loving sisters together! Can you imagine all the fun sleepovers we’ll have drooling about chocolate abs and big cocks?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head in amusement, but then he seals the deal with the same cheeky grin. “Well, aren’t you a keeper?”

“Mil! I dragged my friends with me!” I shout, throwing her door open. Jongin and Kyungsoo follow from behind me skeptically.

Milan swivels around in her chair, looking absolutely horrified. “Christ, you scared the living shit out of me. What are you doing here, Haeeun?”

My cheeks dimple, and I plop on a bed. “Skipping French.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “I don’t know whether to applaud her audacity or be horrified.”

Jongin agrees, “she told Madame Boudier to stick her head in _la toilette._ ”

Milan’s jaw falls open. “It’s only your first week here. Are you set on making everyone your enemy already?”

Kyungsoo tsks, joining the spot beside me. “At this rate, she’ll be hated by the entire staff, and all of them will fight tooth and nail to prevent her from walking the stage.”

I cluck my tongue. “To be fair, Mr. Byun’s an uptight _connard_ , and Mme Boudier treats me like I’m an illiterate moron. She thinks I can’t be bothered to speak basic French because I’m a transfer student. Jokes on her old ass. Stupid _salope._ I’ve been taking French since freshman year.”

Milan makes a face. “Do I want to know what she’s saying?”

Jongin shakes his head. “She’s just being pretentious and using French to say asshole and bitch.”

“Guys, I swear if the principal knocks on my door tomorrow and asks me why I’m coveting your asses, I will kill all of you.”

Kyungsoo ignores that and snuggles beside me. “So you’re saying you’d rather be charged for murder than simply getting chewed out by Mr. Sandoval?”

Jongin winces. “And have you ever been the victim of being chewed out by him?”

I snort. “And you have?”

Milan and Jongin share a mutual look of fear. “Let’s say you haven’t lived life to the fullest if you haven’t been called to his office,” the boy titters.

Kyungsoo pokes my arm. “Well, she’s about to join the club.”

I laugh. “Is that your way of welcoming me?”

“Yes, welcome to Lincoln High school, home of the Sabertooth’s.”


	4. convivial

**[baekhyun]**

The sound of leaves crunching under his feet echos through the empty courtyard. Baekhyun’s about to be late for his afternoon class, but this time, he hadn’t been in the mood to care about his duties. He might’ve gotten this job because he had no choice, but Baekhyun isn’t the type of person to shirk his responsibilities.

Maybe he’d been teetering on the thin line of morals, but they’d still been there nonetheless. He pulls the cigarette box from his pocket. It’d been a while since he’d smoked, but special circumstances call for special measures. He inhales the carcinogens, feeling the nicotine buzz attempt to put his frayed nerves back together.

He could still feel it. The tight ball of emotions in his chest. Anger. Fear. All negative connotations. But he couldn’t understand why he’d still been entertaining the thought of her. Could it be lust? He’d been lying if he hadn’t been tempted to taste her lips. Lips so red, it'd felt like he’d been looking at a pool of blood. It definitely had the power of making his groin pool with blood.

Sighing, he rakes a hand through his damaged hair. What the hell is he supposed to do now? Everywhere he goes, he can't stop thinking about her. Her sharp tongue. Her fierce, no-bullshit eyes. And her lips—did he mention the lips?

But it’s obvious that every confrontation with Kang Haeeun had made him slightly unhinged. Just a bit more mental than the usual. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. And that had been the most bullshit statement he’d ever thought of. Every time he’d spoken to her, it’d only been a challenge.

The way her eyebrows had lifted to the slight wicked curl of her lips—she’d been playing with him. Putting their dynamic on a plate, spinning it round and round. Sometimes making him dizzy with rage or—sometimes _lust._

But the thing that had gotten to him the most—he could see that under all that bravado, not that it’d seemed fake because she’d been a convincing actress, the girl had been nothing but a broken doll.

Baekhyun kicks at the pile of leaves, swearing under his breath. Why the fuck did it matter? He didn’t have time for this. Not to ponder her bratty attitude. Not to imagine kissing the hell out of her. Fuck. He’s going mad, and the cigarette hadn’t helped one bit.

A low buzz vibrates in his pant pocket, making him jump. He pulls out his phone, tucking it between his jaw and clavicle. “Hello?” He answers warily, taking another hit of nicotine.

“Baek! How’ve you been, man? Guess who’s back?” The bellow of his long-time friend relaxes him considerably.

Softening his tone, he greets, “welcome back, Yeol.”

“What’s wrong? You sound like absolute shit,” his friend comments as a matter of fact.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop it with the pleasantries. You’re flattering me.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking deadbeat as always.”

“Am not.”

“Am.”

"Am not."

" _Am_."

“Shut up, you pixie-eared brachiosaurus.”

Chanyeol whimpers playfully. “You’re such an ass, but no matter! I’m back and ready to mingle—uh, sort of. Let’s go out for drinks. We have so much to chitchat about,” he sings.

Baekhyun snorts. “What are you? A teenager?”

“Yes, I’m a hormonal teenager ready to be fucked by you, daddy.”

Baekhyun makes a sound of disgust, dropping his half-lit cigarette. He crushes it under his shoes, picking up his phone and pressing it closer to his ears. “Fucker.”

Chanyeol laughs. “That I am. Anyway, there’s a surprise for you.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows knit together. “Surprise?” He’d known Chanyeol since college, and the taller boy hadn’t been one to give gifts, so he deducts against that. Which means that Baekhyun is completely in the dark. He has no idea what the latter has up his sleeves, and he’d be lying if he'd said that it didn't make him nervous.

“Nope! No strippers this time—sadly,” Chanyeol jests. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go now. See you tonight, Baek!” The line clicks before Baekhyun can offer any sort of input.

And it puts a nostalgic smile on his lips. Some things never change. Even after nine years. Chanyeol had still been the erratic man he’d always been and Baekhyun had needed the constant.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun met during the first year of college at UPenn. During this time, he’d been going through problems because of his dysfunctional family. And humorously, the two didn't have the best first impression of each other.

Chanyeol had tripped him down a set of stairs, and Baekhyun had ended up needing ten stitches. From then on, the two had hated each other’s guts. Baekhyun’s personal mission had been to ruin the latter’s life. But during their second semester, Chanyeol’s mother had tragically died from a car accident.

Baekhyun had ignored their enemy status and took the man out for some drinks. They had gotten completely wasted and Baekhyun had shared his own issues—his mother’s fight with cancer since Baekhyun had been in middle school. Whether he’d meant to or not. It didn’t matter because, at the end of the day, the two had earned mutual respect for one another.

And that’d been that.

His friends have been with him through thick and thin, so even if he hadn’t been in the greatest mood—he didn’t have the heart to say no.

Besides, who’d say no to free drinks? Call him cheap, but he’d needed one after meeting a certain ill-natured teenage girl.

Baekhyun takes another deep breath before deciding it’d been time to pull his head out of his ass. He’d continued down the hallway only to stop right in his tracks.

In his peripheral, he could make out two people. Lee Miyoung. One of his long-time friends—also an alumnus of UPenn.

And Kang Haeeun, yes, the very girl. How the hell did these two know each other? Baekhyun doesn’t even attempt to act inconspicuous as his heels clump toward the two.

Miyoung’s eyes catch onto him, and she beams. “Baek, you’re here!” Like she didn’t know where he’d worked. Baekhyun had been pretty sure that Chanyeol and Miyoung had kept an eye on him—courtesy to his father and their own concerns in case Baekhyun did something reckless that could’ve costed his life again.

“And you’re annoying,” he drawls, a sarcastic smile twisting on his lips. Baekhyun doesn’t miss the twitch on Haeeun’s lips. And his stomach flips. To his annoyance, he’d secretly hoped to see it again. Her dimpled smile.

“Nice seeing you again, Miyoung. I have to get back to class,” Haeeun interjects the short silence with a lazy wave. Irritation fills his system. She’d deliberately ignored his existence. Baekhyun controls his expression. He didn’t want Miyoung to find out that he cared—not that he cared, of course.

“So,” he begins after clearing his throat. “Why are you here?”

Her lips jut out in a pout. “I’m replacing your school nurse for a couple of days. What? Aren’t you happy to see your best buddy again? It’s been too long.”

Baekhyun deadpans, “sure, whatever makes you happy.”

“Dickhead,” she quips, slapping his arm.

“Only to you, Lee,” he teases, his expression softening. Then, he pauses, the question tumbling out of his mouth before he could exert self-control and indifference. “How do you know her?”

Miyoung’s eyes round. “Haeeun?” A guilty expression falls on her face, and it only makes Baekhyun uneasy if not frightened by her next words. “She’s—erm—“ Miyoung is struggling, and if there’d been one thing that he'd known about her, words had _always_ and easily come to her.

Baekhyun tries to ignore the bad feeling in his gut as he waits for her answer.

“Look, I just know her, okay?”

He tsks, unconvinced with her half-hearted explanation. But Baekhyun doesn’t care about Kang Haeeun. That name spoils his mood. So he acts the part, not bothering to interrogate his friend. Instead, he snarks, “does that mean I can assume that you’re a pedophile with little to no innocent thoughts who—I don’t know—coincidentally just knows a teenage girl?”

Miyoung coughs out a laugh. “Sure, whatever, ByunBaek.”

“Right,” he says casually. Then, he presses on, “are you bored or something? Shouldn’t you be in a prestigious hospital, bossing around green-eyed interns?”

Miyoung hums, “I should be saying the same to you, Dr. Byun Baekhyun.” She jabs a finger at his chest unapologetically. “You’re wasting away your twenties, Baek.”

Baekhyun is already disinterested in wherever this conversation is heading. He’d heard this a million times. Touchy subjects like what the hell he’d planned on doing with the rest of his life. And the accident and the numerous suicide attempts shortly after. And—yeah, no. If he had no intention of digging into his past in the first place, he isn’t going to be starting any time soon.

She notices his attention drifting away and snaps her fingers in front of his eyes. He blinks from his stupor. Miyoung clears her throat harshly. “Byun Baekhyun, how long are you going to keep playing this game?”

Baekhyun feigns, “game? The last time I remembered, my life hadn’t been a game. The accident destroyed my life, Miyoung. Tell me, do you think that I’ve been having fun for the past two years?”

Her jaw clenches. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then do tell me—what are you implying?”

Crossing her arms, she levels a serious look at him. Baekhyun wants to gag. He couldn’t take it whenever she’d used that look on him. Lee Miyoung means business and she’s going to unravel everything he’d worked so hard to bury. “You can’t just not talk about it.”

“About?”

She scoffs. “Your _trauma_. Baekhyun, you haven’t told anyone about what happened. Hell, you haven’t even told your own best friends. And we’ve been supportive, but it’s been two years. If you can’t tell us, tell someone you trust—tell it to a fucking shrink for god’s sake.”

Baekhyun grounds his jaw. “It’s none of your business how I conduct my life. Remember, Miyoung? I fucking forgot. Every _detail_ of that accident and at least months before that—I can’t fucking recall even a second of it.

_You_ don’t know how it feels to dream about these moments every night and not have a single fucking clue what they mean. It messes with your goddamn head, you know—I _can’t_ sleep. And I will _never_ go back to normal. I can’t live my life like you and Yeol. And it’s prime time that you start accepting that,” he snaps.

Tears flood her eyes, but Baekhyun can’t feel any remorse. “How can you ask me to just…accept that? You’re fucking up your own life. I care about—“

“Stop it, Miyoung. Frankly, if the details of the accident had been true—like the reports say—I don’t deserve an ounce of sympathy. Suck it up, buttercup. I don’t have time to take a trip down memory lane with you.” Byun Baekhyun is fucking relentless, and he’s treating his friend like complete crap when he knows she's genuinely worried about him. And he knows that deep inside, he doesn’t really mean these things. But he’s in far too deep to back out. It hadn’t even been the issue of pride. Hell, he’d lost that two years ago with his own soul.

It’d been resignation and weariness. Baekhyun had been so goddamn tired of everyone demanding things from him. His father. His friends. The expectations had been too high and he'd felt himself gradually crumbling from the weight of his responsibilities.

Baekhyun’s done with owing people because, honestly, his life had already been in shambles, and nothing’s going to change that. No amount of crying. No amount of pleading. _Nothing_.

“Fine,” she croaks. Sniffling, she wipes her tears with her sleeve. “Make sure you meet us at the pub tonight, asshole.”

“And here I was hoping I’d never have to see you again. Darn.”

Miyoung’s lip twitches. “Go back to class, Baekhyun. At least focus on one thing if you’re too stubborn to turn your life around.”

He briefly flips her off playfully, and then he’s gone, attempting to leave the ghost of his past behind as well.

“Surprise!” Chanyeol and Miyoung shout in unison, flashing their ring fingers in unison.

Baekhyun only sighs. Stealing Chanyeol’s booze, he downs it. “Are you actually fucking with me right now?” He asks after a minute of relishing the burn of pure vodka.

Miyoung plops back down on her seat, grinning. “Not at all, ByunBaek! We’re getting hitched.”

“And you’re our best man,” Chanyeol adds with a double thumbs-up.

For fuck’s sake, there is not enough liquor in the world for Baekhyun to drown in. “No thanks,” he quips.

Chanyeol ignores that. “Are you bringing a plus one? We love you so much that we’re even letting you RSVP in person, Baek. Do you know how significant that is?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Is this a serious question?”

Miyoung’s big eyes widen, immediately filling with tears. Baekhyun groans. Fucking hell. He’d already made her cry earlier. If Chanyeol had found out that Baekhyun made his fiancé cry twice in the same day, that would mean getting his ass kicked to Pluto. And no more free liquor. That'd been the most important point. Because Baekhyun had needed it. Desperately.

“God. No. Don’t cry,” he pleads. To no avail, big fat tears continue falling out of her eyes. Then, he snaps indignantly, “fuck you.”

Chanyeol lifts a brow in his direction semi-threateningly.

Baekhyun closes his mouth. “Okay,” he breathes, throwing his hands up. “I’ll come to your stupid wedding. Now shut up before I throw myself out the window.”

Miyoung stops sniffling, and she calmly wipes at her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. We’re on the top floor, ByunBaek.”

Baekhyun is not amused. In fact, he’s thinking of legal ways to kill his best friend.

Chanyeol laughs in his seat, throwing his head back. “She fucking played you, Baek.” Baekhyun sends both of them pointed glares, but it only makes Chanyeol lose it.

Miyoung’s eyes suddenly widen. “Baek,” she calls nervously.

Baekhyun frowns at her, and then he’s following her gaze to a very familiar-looking girl currently on an older man’s lap. Hell, he looks a decade older than her. He squints his eyes, finally recognizing her.

Kang Haeeun.

What the fuck? Why the hell is this girl everywhere? Even here—in a dark Irish pub that she shouldn't have been able to get into.

“What the—is that who I think it is?” Chanyeol stammers, jumping to his feet.

Miyoung pulls him down roughly. “Yes, and you’re not doing or saying anything.”

Chanyeol glowers. “Mi,” he begins.

She shakes her head. “We’ve talked about this, Yeol.”

“Are you joking right now?”

Miyoung lifts a brow. “Do I sound like I’m joking? Yeol, if you move from this seat, I will obliterate you.” Her fiancé swallows nervously and he gives up. With a satisfied smile, she turns to Baekhyun. “Please go save her.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at his friend. “From what? It’s the twenty-first century.”

“Well, ByunBaek. Chivalry ain’t fucking dead. Get your ass up and make sure she’s okay. Save her from the potential risks—hell, permanent STDs—and the potential hassle of a baby daddy that she sure as hell isn’t ready for.”

Baekhyun doesn’t know whether to be pissed that Miyoung has made several good points or to be pissed that she’s telling him what to do in the first place. Muttering curses under his breath, he moves to stand.

He weaves through the mass of bodies—some on their way out, some just heading in. They all move out of his way whether intentionally or not. Baekhyun could practically see the anger radiate off of him. The man had probably looked like he was on a warpath, and if you didn’t get out of the way, he simply could not guarantee survival.

Haeeun’s small body is still smack dab on this creep’s lap. The creep tilts his head when Baekhyun approaches. “What do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Baekhyun plasters a cold smile. “I’d like you to get your hands off of her, thank you very much.”

The man returns a smug smile. “Ah, you must be quite blind. Let me educate you—this girl is currently on my lap with her hands wrapped around my neck. It’s consensual.”

Haeeun drunkenly flickers her gaze onto him. She gasps in theatrical surprise and clutches her chest with one hand. “No way! So nice to see you here, Mr. Byun.”

The man smirks. “And she knows the uptight lad. Nice.”

Baekhyun is fuming and is seconds away from letting his years of Hapkido make an appearance. “Listen up, you prick. She’s a fucking high school student, and I may be blind, but you don’t look like a high school senior to me. If you don’t get your hands off of her this second, you’re looking at years in jail with statutory rape under your belt.”

The man immediately detangles himself from her, leaping away as if she’d been dirty trash. “You could’ve started with that, fucker,” he seethes, and then, he pushes past Baekhyun, intently ramming into his shoulder.

Baekhyun is the better person, so he ignores this motherfucker. Then, he takes a seat beside the drunk girl. “Can I ask you what business you have in this establishment, Kang?”

Haeeun shuffles through her purse, slapping an ID on the counter. He narrows his eyes, reading over the fine print.

He deadpans, “you’re nineteen. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t report you the bouncers over there.”

She hiccups, and then leans in closer, eyes shining with mischief. “Oopsies, wrong ID.” Haeeun pulls out another one, snatching away the card in Baekhyun’s hands. He snorts. “I’m twenty-three,” she whispers conspiratorially.

Baekhyun fights the smile threatening to break out. “Could’ve fooled me, but I know better. You’re on my roster, Kang. Don’t bullshit the bullshitter. Your mom ever taught you that?”

Haeeun bites her lips, and it warrants a reaction from Baekhyun. A half hard-on. He clenches his thigh muscles, breathing and avoiding her tempting red lips. “I don’t have one. She’s dead. Cancer. What a bitch, huh? The disease, I mean.”

Baekhyun’s heart tugs at this. So this girl also had a tragic background to boot? Great. Fucking fantastic. Just what he’d needed to thaw his icy heart. “You shouldn’t be here,” he tells her after a beat. “It’s dangerous.”

She wrinkles her nose. And fuck had it been the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “You’re _dangerous_.” Damn right he is. “I heard some shitty news today, and I couldn’t find a better alternative than getting wasted.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. So on top of having the same tragic background as him—she’d also coped in the same way. How many times is she going to surprise him? He’s sure the answer ranges from unfavorable to _I don’t even want to know._ Long story short. He hates Miyoung for putting him in this position.

And he also hates his heart for caring. Just a tiny bit.

“Did drinking help?” He asks, reaching out to grab her before her face slammed into the glass counter.

She giggles, leaning into his touch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Shaking her head, she explains, “it did until you appeared. You. Byun Baekhyun. The bane of my troubles." She leans on her elbow, peering at him from under her lashes. "Earlier, that man—he found an eyelash on my cheeks and told me to make a wish.”

Baekhyun snorts. Of course, he did. But he keeps his mouth shut for her to continue.

“I didn’t mean to—argh—“ She groans, hunching over as she covers her mouth. “I’m fine!” She hollers at him, letting a toothy smile slip—and those fucking _dimples_. And she’d been the one to call him dangerous. Kang Haeeun had been incorrect and correct. Because right now, she’s the apple on the tree.

And Baekhyun, unfortunately, is in the shoes of the very Eve. To think there’d be a day he’d soberly make Bible allusions. What the hell is the world coming to?

“You’re a fucking mess, Kang,” he notes, voice cracking like a thirteen-year-old boy. Baekhyun’s cheeks flush, and he wishes it had been from the alcohol, but no, he’d been completely sober.

Haeeun grins. “That I am. But as I was saying before, I’d accidentally wished to see you. And now, you’re right in front of me,” she concurs, waving her hands. Then, she murmurs, “you.” Her breath hitches, but she continues, “I hate you, but you’re so, so, so unnecessarily sexy. _Fuck_. I must be out of my mind. Did I really just say that out loud?” She cries the last bit, covering her face in embarrassment.

Baekhyun frowns. Accident. Right. Like he’d believe that. “I’m going to ignore what you just said and take you home.”

“Okay, I’ll let you do that, Mr. Byun,” Haeeun chirps, standing as he stands. She falls into his chest with a light _oomph._ Baekhyun stiffens from her chest pressing against his. She’s not wearing a bra, and her dress is thin—paper fucking thin.

Balls of fire streak in his blood as it would with a slick of oil. His erection is prominent, prodding. A tiny gasp falls out her mouth as she attempts to move, but only falls back on him, her sex grazing his.

And it fucking hurts. Not in the way you’d expect. But the agonizing way in which he’d wanted her. Since the very first run-in with her in that hallway.

_School hallway._ Baekhyun swallows, attempting to remind himself of this. Sure, she’s nineteen, but she’d still been his student, and this is very, _very_ illegal.

“Where do you live?” He asks curtly, finally grabbing her by the shoulders to prevent any other mishaps.

Haeeun scratches her chin. “Are you going to take me home in your fancy car?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.”

“Can I drive?”

“No.”

Her lips jut out in a pout. Baekhyun wants to shove a big ass stick up the universe’s ass at this point. It takes every bit of his willpower to hold back. He turns to see his friends who offer him encouraging smiles—well, actually, that only counts toward Miyoung. Chanyeol is sulking, and Baekhyun didn’t have time to find out why.

Not with a drunken and, worse, touchy teenager in his hands.

Haeeun is patting his chest, oohing and awing. Baekhyun fights a smirk. “Wow, you’re so muscular for an old man. Do you have abs?” She trails her hands down his stomach, pushing. It doesn’t give, of course. Baekhyun sees that she’s found her answer by the way her eyes flash in delight.

Ignoring his throbbing dick, he grimly repeats his question, “where do you live?”

“Beats me,” Haeeun sings, stumbling away from him toward the elevator.

Baekhyun sighs exasperatedly, running a hand in his hair. He takes long strides, catching up with her in seconds. “Stop fucking around.”

The two enter the elevator. Baekhyun attempts to make sure there’s at least a foot of distance between them. He stands, pressed far on the left wall of the elevator. He should’ve known, really. Haeeun’s defiant, and it’s not much of a surprise when she grasps onto his shoulders.

Her eyes blaze like torches. All-consuming. With the swirl of lust and the promises of a night worth remembering. He realizes he’s trapped. In her palm. Unmoving. It’s like he’s a rock, and she’s the gentle stream that slopes around him. It isn’t sudden. The erosion, the sanding down. But with time, surely, she weathers away his restraint—his _control_.

Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut, forcibly peeling her off of him. _No_ , he pleads himself. _Don’t do anything you know you’ll regret._

As the elevator moves down, it stops floor by floor, and people begin to crowd the small space. Baekhyun’s jaw ticks as he curses to himself. Where the hell are these people coming from? Space eventually closes between them again, but the only difference this time is that her back is turned to him.

The elevator lurches, and she jerks back, her ass pressing against his hard-on. Baekhyun stops breathing, and he’s pretty sure Haeeun has stopped too. She attempts to move by holding herself steady by the wall on their left. It works, and Baekhyun releases a sigh of relief.

And then in front of them, people begin shuffling, and someone bumps into her. Her palm slips, and she’s back to where they started.

“ _Stop_ moving,” he bites out lowly. Fuck. How long is this elevator ride? Baekhyun glances at the descending analog numbers. Okay. Twenty more floors. He could do that. Somehow. Even in the silence of his own thoughts. He hadn’t convinced himself at all.

Haeeun hisses, “don’t you think I know that?” She sounds sober. Okay. Good. At least she won’t intentionally seduce him anymore. “Why are you so hard?” She whispers.

Baekhyun scoffs. “I don’t know, Kang. But I’d probably win the Nobel if I had the answer to that.”

She coughs out a laugh. “Smartass.”

“The only ass I’m aware of is yours,” he comments, leaning into her ear. “Pressed against my cock.”

Haeeun exhales shakily. “Shut up, Baekhyun.”

He lifts a brow. “I thought I told you it was—“

She half turns in her small confined space. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Byun. There’s no way I’m addressing you as my teacher with your boner between my ass.”

Baekhyun laughs unexpectedly. “You’re so goddamn feisty all the time. Even when you’re drunk.”

Haeeun squints her eyes. “Correction. Tipsy. I’m sobering up _really_ quickly.” And then she groans, palming her face. “Can you tell Baekhyun Jr. to _stop_ twitching down there?”

If he had the power to do that, he’d also really appreciate it. “He’s excited for some action. Cut him some slack.”

She laughs, eyes twinkling. “When was the last time you got laid, grandpa?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Haeeun pushes her hips back, rubbing him. His heart races from her actions. She’d been polite enough to feign her dirty, dirty actions to outsiders. But _not_ to him. Because she’s unapologetically continuing to grind against him, and Baekhyun is about to lose it completely. “I think it’s my business when it becomes apparent that you’re enjoying this,” she taunts, her voice reaching a raspiness that does things to him.

Baekhyun grits his teeth. “Stop.”

To his surprise and utter disappointment, she actually stops, and it’s because they’ve reached the basement. The sight of the cement parking lot stretches beyond the doors. Haeeun finally gets off of him, weaving through the now sparse group of people.

“Where’s your car?” She asks, walking on steady legs.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. Haeeun _is_ sobering. She hadn’t been lying. “Over there,” he responds, pointing to the lot in the back.

The car ride is silent and he wants to keep it that way. Baekhyun decides to take her back to his place—something a smart person wouldn’t do. Well, let’s just say, he’d lost his fucking mind when she’d purposely thrust her hips back.

But _no_ , he didn’t plan on doing anything to her.

It’s thundering by the time they’ve reached his condo. The rain and wind shake the trees in the distance. The air is unsettlingly humid, and he can’t seem to get any oxygen inside his lungs.

Baekhyun gets out of the car after parking it, and then he hears a loud yelp. He turns his head only to see Haeeun sprawled on the floor, her dress sopping up the water.

The rain beats down on them, and he sighs, moving to help her up. “Are you a fucking idiot?”

She laughs, pulling her now wet hair away from her chest. “I fell, sue me.”

Baekhyun ignores her and tugs her inside of the building for safety measures. Just in case she accidentally falls off of the eighth floor or something.

His grip is tight until they reach his apartment, both soaking wet from the rain.

“I’ll be in the guest bathroom. Turn right and walk ten steps and you’ll see my room. Take the master bathroom. As for clothes…take whatever you want from my closet,” he tells her robotically.

Haeeun stands there, her eyes lingering after him. He turns briskly walking into the bathroom, slamming it shut.

Baekhyun strips out of his heavy clothes and hops into the steaming shower, moaning in relief when the hot water hits his skin. He’s in the middle of calming down his raging erection when the door to the bathroom opens

“What do you want?” He asks irritatedly. Thankfully, the curtain is separating them, preventing her from getting an eyeful.

Haeeun hums, “I needed to pee.” He hears the slam of the toilet seat and quiet tinkering. Baekhyun’s jaw falls open. His dick hardens again. What in the fuck?

No. Everything about this is wrong. He did not just get hard again from her taking a piss. “I told you to take the other bathroom.”

She drones, “I got lost. Your place is big.”

He rolls his eyes, having enough of her antics. “Get out—“ The shower curtains are pulled open, and she stands in front of him, eyes dragging across his body unabashedly.

His cock juts, and she grins. “I figured just as much.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Haeeun picks up the flimsy strap of her slip dress, letting them fall. He watches the dress pool at her feet. He’d been right—and did he wish he could be wrong for once.

Her frame is tiny—slender arms, flat stomach, and her _fucking_ tits. Small but perfectly round and perky and fucking hell—is he still breathing?

“Geez Louise, look much?” She chuckles.

Baekhyun tears his eyes away, glaring at her face. “I said get out.”

Haeeun leans in. “Are you sure?” She takes his silence as doubt, and he watches her slip her panties off—realizing that she’s a cotton girl. Not that it mattered anyway.

And then she’s in his space, pulling the curtains close—as if she’d wanted to hide them away from the proverbial eyes of the world.

She leans in close, her floral notes hitting him in the groin. And then, she’s kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest—everywhere she can get her hands on. He closes his eyes, groaning and basking in the feel of her palms closing around his length.

Haeeun moves slowly and carefully. “I’m on birth control,” she tells him tentatively.

Baekhyun’s eyes snap open. “What?”

She sighs, gripping him tighter in her palms. “I’m telling you I want you to fuck me. Read in between the lines, Mr. Byun.”

Oh. This girl is playing a dangerous game. She’d decidedly used formality, taunting him. Baekhyun grasps her arm, tugging her until she’s under the showerhead, flush against him. Her hands slip from his erection, and he tilts her chin up, watching the way her eyes burn into him with lust.

“I’m not going to fuck you if you’re intoxicated,” he informs, attempting to chase after his self-control.

Haeeun blows her breath into his face. “I’ll remember tomorrow,” she tells him, scratching her short fingertips along his stomach. “I’m not that drunk. Now, will you please do something before I die from blue balls?”

He barks out a laugh. “Touché.”

The younger tilts her head, kissing the corner of his lips. She tightens her arms around his neck, bare breast flushed against his chest. He feels the tightening of her nipples.

Fuck everything.

He growls impatiently, capturing her lips roughly. Baekhyun wishes she didn’t feel and taste as good as her lips had looked. She’d tasted like candy—way too sweet, but in the span of seconds, he’s become an addict. The sugar coats every part of his tongue, and even with the water beating down his back, steam curling and stealing his air, he will never relent.

Haeeun moans when he bites down her bottom lip. And then he’s pushing his tongue into her sweet, potent cavern. She isn’t submissive. Not even a bit. If he pushes, she pushes back. The younger gives him a run for his money, and even though, it’s irritating that he has to fight for dominance, his cock hardens against his stomach— _liking_ her defiance.

Her fingers tangle in his wet locks, pulling him closer. She kisses him more. She steals every last breath. Every last crumb of his restraint. He feels lightheaded as she presses the pad of her thumb against the head of his cock. He hungrily pushes his hips into her.

The sounds of her moans in his ears feel sinful, but Baekhyun’s the devil, and she can’t blame anyone but herself.

Friction builds, the heat spreading in his lower abdomen like wildfire. He pinches her nipples, smiling darkly when she squeezes her eyes shut, shuddering against him. Baekhyun leans down kissing around her areola—her nipples tighten. He tongues them, tasting and savoring the softness and the resistance—the way they seem to fight against him, reminding him of their owner.

“Use your teeth,” she whimpers, tugging at his wet locks.

Baekhyun isn’t that much of an asshole, so naturally, he gives the lady what she wants. He grazes his teeth against her sensitive nubs, squeezing her other tit because he also didn’t discriminate. And then he drops his hand lower, thumbing her slit.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. And he can see how she could get them confused. Baekhyun traces her folds, pushing inside to feel her slickness.

“When did you get this wet for me?” He murmurs against her skin.

“Elevator,” she keens and proceeds to murmur a string of _fuck._ Baekhyun smirks, pushing two fingers inside her entrance. “ _Yes—“_

“Good answer.” He adds a third finger, stretching her. “That guy earlier…were you going to fuck him?”

Haeeun opens her eyes, sending him a peculiar look. “Why are you asking?”

Baekhyun shrugs, a cocky smile playing at his lips. “Answer the question.”

“Maybe—“ But her words are cut short when he curls his fingers, plunging them deeper. She jolts, falling against his chest.

He hums, “and why didn’t you?”

The girl scoffs. “You’re seriously asking me that with your fingers clenched inside of me?”

Baekhyun easily pulls them out. “Yes,” he taunts, enjoying her pained expression.

“He isn’t you,” she whispers.

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “What’s that?”

“Because I only want _you_ to fuck me. Is that what you wanted to hear from me, asshole?” She snaps, ducking her face.

He’d wanted to hear her words. Because for some strange reason, he didn’t want to be a random guy that she’d be willing to fuck out of arousal. No fucking way. He will never be just a lay to anyone—especially not to this little girl.

His erection throbs, and he doesn’t waste any time flipping her onto her back. She cries out as he rubs his length between her ass. Every part of her had been the same. Soft. Luscious. And it made Baekhyun wonder what it’d be like to be inside of her.

Baekhyun is risking everything, and as much as he’d like to stay indifferent, his erection seems to think better of it. He lines himself up, pushing slowly inside of her.

“Wait, wait—“ She chokes out. “Give me a second to adjust.” And goddamn did it inflate his ego. Baekhyun helpfully gathers her hair neatly, letting it fall down her back. And then she nods, giving him the okay.

He pulls out and plunges back inside of her harshly. In. Out. In and out. She’d felt perfect—soft like he’d expected, but her muscles had been clenching hard on his cock. He strains with the effort to keep himself from slipping. Constantly on edge. And technically speaking, he could just release himself, but Baekhyun had wanted to please her first.

Slowing down his pace, he snakes his hand to her front, reaching down to circle her clit. She inhales sharply. “Gentler,” she tells him breathlessly.

Baekhyun kisses her neck, thrusting slower, but more deliberately. Haeeun pushes against him, crashing her hips down on his and meeting him. “Fuck,” he curses, gritting his teeth. He angles her hip, pushing upwards and she nods frivolously.

“Right there, _Baekhyun_.” He’s positively sure he can just come from hearing her moan his name alone, but she hadn’t been satisfied yet. Baekhyun didn’t mind having to work for it. It’s more rewarding that way. “Baek—“ She doesn’t finish as her body stills when he uses the last of his strength to thrust upwards—deeper than he’d gone before.

She’s coming violently from the clitoral stimulation and him finding her spot—giving her perfect, deep thrusts each time.

And then it’s his turn. His high comes in waves, crashing against him. And his teeth chatter as he bites down—every bone in his body reverberating, skin humming from the burst of heat splitting in his lower region.

He continues fucking into her, riding out his high. She whimpers, fisting her hands on the tiled wall. And Baekhyun spins her around, eyes piercing hers with intensity.

Haeeun shivers, her lips glossy and swollen. He feels himself hardening again. Baekhyun leans to kiss her, tasting her as her muscles clench him _again_. She’s asking for it. And lucky for her, he isn't done giving.

Baekhyun shuts off the water. “Jump,” he demands. And she does. He catches her, feeling her legs tighten around his waist.

“Bed?” She asks, pulling back from their searing kiss.

His eyes darken. “Yes, and I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”

The corner of her lips tugs upward. “ _Yes please_.”


	5. sporadic

**[haeeun]**

The morning birds are chirping, but I am in no way as chirpy as they are. For starters, my head feels like it’s been victim to a hit-and-run. But it’s not just my head, my body feels like I’ve been stretched in a million different ways and bludgeoned everywhere. I’d imagine this is what Rasputin felt like moments before he died. Did I run a 50k? My eyes fly open, and I’m groaning into my hands.

The lights are too bright and _god_ do they burn. I have to curl under the pillow I’m lying on for a deep breath. It’s too much. I feel pain _everywhere_.

My sex is throbbing—god, what did I even do? I close my eyes to wrack my head, but there’s only a pulsating headache that greets me. My eyes wander across my body, and I gasp.

Bite marks. Finger marks. Hickeys. I squint my eyes. Did I have sex with a vampire? I squish my boob, scrutinizing the teeth marks. I must be one kinky bitch. Sighing and massaging my head, I struggle off of the bed.

I turn to check on my partner. He’s buried under the covers, and I don’t really want to bother with the awkward after sex morning talk so I leave him alone.

I attempt to look for my clothes, but I can’t find my dress or panties anywhere. I inhale and exhale. Well, fuck. This isn’t a great start to a Saturday morning. Saturday mornings are for enjoying cartoons and Lucky Charms.

A wave of nausea hits me in the stomach, and I have to bend over, clutching my entire body. Last night is decimating me.

And I _can’t_ remember any of it. I blink at the guy pitifully. Hopefully, I’ll never have to see him again. I have this awful habit of sleeping with guys whenever I drink. My mother probably rolls in her grave every time I wake up disoriented and fucked to the bone—except, I’ve never felt this content. My skin practically hums with satisfaction. And the satisfaction reverberates deep inside, reaching my bones. Whoever this guy is. He’s the best one night stand I’ve ever had.

I meander into what I think is his closet. He smells nice. Familiar too. But I can’t grasp the familiarity through my shitty headache. I scrutinize his wardrobe. He has a lot of expensive brands, and I sort of feel bad for shoplifting—is this what it’s called?

Who knows? I’ve never had to steal clothes the morning after. I thumb through his shirts until I find one long enough to cover me. It’s not nice to flash to your Uber driver, you know.

I grab a black hoodie, pulling it over me quickly. Then, I pad outside of his room, closing the door quietly behind me. Grabbing my phone on the floor near the foyer, I quietly salute him as big thank you—for great sex, for not waking up, and for kindly giving me his sweatshirt, of course.

In the midst of my Uber home, I check my phone to see several text messages. Kyungsoo and Jongin had texted me to meet them at the local coffee shop downtown. I groan, realizing that I’m going to be at least a half-hour late.

I trip out of the Uber and rush upstairs to throw on a new pair of underwear and jeans. I check my reflection and wince. Yeah, no.

No amount of anything is going to make me look less like a tramp. Sighing, I pull my hair into a lopsided bun on my head, and then I’m off, grabbing my keys from the bowl.

“How was Friday night?” Kyungsoo inquires, dragging his eyes down my body.

I wince. Okay. So I still look bad. At least I’d attempted to cover my arms and legs that made it look like I'd been rolling in a war zone all night. “Great,” I lie, waving my hand dismissively.

Jongin leans in, sniffing me. I back away, sending him a questioning look. “You look like you’ve been fucked a thousand different ways. Smell like one too actually—“

Kyungsoo drags Jongin back by his hoodie, ignoring the choking boy. “He has no manners, but—“ He points to me with a jagged finger. “He’s also right.”

I lift an eyebrow. “How bad do I look?”

“You look like last night was peak season for prostitution,” Kyungsoo answers not so gently and sips on his coffee. I have the sudden urge to turn it upside down on him.

Jongin waves his hands dismissively. “No, you look fine, sweets. Really fucked and hungover, but still pretty sexy. Honestly, you could’ve just hit me up, you know?”

I hold a palm out. “No thanks.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at Jongin before turning back to me. “Who did you fuck last night?” He interrogates, leaning toward me like I’d been the homicide case he’d been trying to solve for decades.

I lean back in my seat after stealing some of Kyungsoo’s coffee. Then, I wince. Too sweet. “I don’t know,” I answer, biting the inside of my cheeks.

Jongin and Kyungsoo exchange skeptical looks to which I merely shrug at.

“I’m serious. I only remember up to bar, shower sex—I think? And after, I…” I drawl, scratching my chin. “Look, I think whoever slept with me. He fucked real good, but that’s it. I don’t remember who he is, and I just didn’t get a look this morning because I’d tried to rush out of there before he woke up.”

The guys scoff at me as if I’d cursed their mothers out. “You screwed a guy,” Jongin recounts. I nod reluctantly, and he continues, “and you’re saying you don’t recall the sex part at all? Then, how do you know—“

I pull at the collar of the black hoodie that I’d stolen earlier to reveal my neck. Kyungsoo whistles. “Call it intuition,” I answer nonchalantly.

Jongin frowns. “I’m not even that barbaric. Sheesh. At least, I remember names. Hae, I feel like if we hooked up, I’d be the one taken advantage of.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “That is the most ironic statement you’ve ever said in your life.”

“You’re the manwhore, Jong,” I note, waggling my eyes. “And I’d never sleep with you. I’m really hard to—erm—please?”

Jongin lifts an eyebrow. “So did you come? Did he make you come at all?”

Kyungsoo throws up an exasperated hand. “Can we have brunch in peace without the image of Hae having sex please?”

I flash them both a reassuring smile. “Maybe? I definitely feel satisfied. I have a feeling it wasn’t just one orgasm.”

“TMI!” Kyungsoo shouts. “But—it was good?” He asks after a beat.

Jongin and I laugh, shaking our heads in amusement. “Best sex I’ve had in a while. I just wish I can remember,” I say with a sad smile, but then I shrug. “It’s fine. I guess I needed to blow off some steam.” And then I’m standing, pushing my chair in. “I’m gonna get a cup of joe, okay?”

My friends wave at me, and I turn to find the queue. A younger girl smiles at me when I step up, and I return it. Her phone rings and she leaves the line after taking one look at the caller ID.

And then I’m suddenly staring into a familiar back. I tilt my head and by coincidence, the man turns around. He anchors his attention onto me.

My jaw clenches as I squirm under the heat of his gaze. “Stop looking at me like that,” I murmur.

Baekhyun cocks his eyebrows at me. “And how exactly am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m a piece of meat,” I snap. Oh, man. This headache is really not helping. Does anybody have Advil here?

He leans into my space, and I attempt to jerk away but I’m met with another stranger’s back. I turn my head, plastering an apologetic smile before glancing back to the eyes of mischief. “I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

I choke. “ _What?_ ”

Baekhyun feigns a sigh, and then he elaborates, “you told me you wouldn’t forget, wise girl. If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it—hurt?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing past the pulsating pain of my hangover. I remember meeting someone at the bar. And that someone had been—

My eyes shoot open. “You.”

His smile is lopsided. “Me?”

“Yes, you. We—“ I bite my lips.

Baekhyun nods slowly as if I’m a child who needs coaxing. “We what? Finish your sentence, Kang.”

I groan, “no. No way. I would _never_ have sex with you. You’re despicable, and you’re probably crap in bed.”

He barks out a laugh. “So you do remember.”

He’s right. I do remember. The memories had come flooding back into my system after remembering he’s the one I met at the bar.

We’d gotten back to his place, and I’d been sober when he’d fucked me against the shower tiles. And then we’d stumbled into his room and both of us had drunken some more, and that’s when I’d gotten totally wasted. And then more sex?

I shut my eyes in mortification. Oh god. Did I tell him anything about himself? I attempt to gauge his expression for a clue. But nothing.

“What do you remember?” He asks, thumbing my bottom lip. His action is surprisingly intimate, making my heart thud against my ribs.

I pull away, watching his beautiful fingers fall from my face. “I don’t know,” I blurt, avoiding his eyes.

He hums, “sure, you don’t. Keep denying it, wise girl.”

“Stop,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes.

Baekhyun tilts his head. “Stop?”

“Acting like we’re close or whatever. It was just sex. Stop with the—wise girl.”

There’d been a special reason why I didn’t want him to call me 'wise girl.' It’d given me hope. Because Baekhyun used to call me that _before_ he lost his memories.

[2017; past]

The smell of weed is overwhelming, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. I’ve been a delivery girl before I turned seven. Sometimes I had to roll up the blunts myself. Either way, I’m well-acquainted with drugs. Household drugs. Hard drugs. You name it.

“Haeeun,” Sungyeol calls, offering me his bong. A poorly made one but it still did the job. I smile at him, wondering if I should get high right now.

Woohyun nudges me, his lips curling. “I missed you. Where’ve you been?”

I hum, “I left home. Got taken in by someone else.”

“Where do you live?” Sungyeol asks, tilting his head. I tilt mine and he blows the smoke into my mouth. I inhale and exhale a puff of smoke, feeling the hit.

“Near Long Island,” I tell them casually.

The two whistle. “Fuck. That’s a nice upgrade.”

I shrug. “I guess so?”

“So you’re not coming back?” Woohyun questions, his gaze lingering.

I’d met these two at my previous high school—the one I’d attended when I was with my past caretaker. Before Baekhyun. I’d decided to visit them one last time because I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to see them anymore

And they were nice to me, treating me like their little sister. We used to ditch school together, and I’d hook up with either of them when I was in the mood.

I heave a sigh, but before I can answer, someone cuts in, “so this is where you’ve been? Smoking with a bunch of potheads.”

Sungyeol and Woohyun exchange wary looks and begin to stand. I hold out my hands to both of them, shaking my head. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.

Baekhyun shoots me a cold stare. “I skipped my clinical because your school called. Said you didn’t show up.”

Woohyun snorts. “What’s with this guy? Does he always have something up his ass?”

I laugh, but I immediately stop when Baekhyun glares at me. “You didn’t have to skip anything for me. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re getting high in the middle of the fucking day. That hardly means you’re fine, wise girl,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

“Who is he?” Sungyeol asks, glancing down at me.

“My home,” I answer quietly.

Baekhyun stares at me for a beat. I guess he didn’t expect me to say something so weird. I didn’t call him my caretaker or my new foster dad—is that what he is? I’d called him _home._ And it’s because he is. I feel safe around him—safe enough that I no longer had felt the need to ditch and get high to forget. To avoid the girls in my grade who’d laugh in my face, throwing stacks of hundred dollar bills and telling me to strip.

Because I’m their bitch. I’m the one who humors them just so I can avoid scavenging the dumpster for food. Homeless people don’t like me. I’m too clean-cut—pretty, they say. They tell me I don’t belong on the streets and I should go back home.

But they don’t know that I don’t have an actual home. Just a place I sleep at and then I’m gone—so I can avoid _him._

And eventually, I just got tired of it. That’s when Sungyeol found me sitting under the bleachers, and he’d invited me to ditch school with him.

Baekhyun’s jaw ticks when he realizes that we’re still in the same situation—that I haven’t moved an inch. “Come on,” he urges, waving his hand.

I shake my head. “I’ll be back in a bit. Just go.”

Woohyun shields me protectively as Baekhyun moves to grab me. He shoots a glare at my friend. “Move, kid.”

“No, you move, old man.” The two are pressed against each other. My heart squeezes, and I jump out front when Baekhyun attempts to shove the latter back. I’m the one shoved instead, and I fall to the ground.

“You asshole!” Sungyeol yells, immediately scrambling to me. “Are you okay?”

I nod, glancing at the scrapes on my palm. This is nothing. But I’d hated violence. It’s the one thing I can’t stand, which is pathetic. Growing up in the foster care system meant moving home to home—and sometimes, I wasn’t even considered for adoption. No, I’d just been the scapegoat. Or _m_ _oney_.

But that also meant I met a lot of people. Alcoholics who’d needed me to funnel their booze addiction. Druggies who’d needed me to pick up their drugs—didn’t care that I was an underaged girl who would have to wander into the ghetto parts of New York. And single mothers who’d needed the money to take care of their own babies.

I was always an afterthought, and if I didn’t do what’d they wanted, I’d be beaten to a pulp. So I’d always run away, but it never lasted long because they’d report that I’d gone missing. And then I was found and thrusted back into that godforsaken system—and the cycle repeats.

Until Baekhyun came along, and he hadn’t done anything to me. Yet.

Baekhyun falls to his knees, pulling me up. “I’m sorry—are you okay?”

The boys beside me glance at each other, backing away.

I blink rapidly at him when he pulls my hands, inspecting my injuries. “I’m fine,” I murmur, trying to pull them away.

But his grip is firm. “I must’ve scared you. Sorry. Were you planning on leaving…permanently?” His eyes are sad when I meet them, and the way he’s looking at me, it feels like I’m being stabbed in the lungs, and the air is leaving me all at once.

Sungyeol answers for me, “take her home, asshole.” And then, he turns to me, smiling with glossed over eyes. “I hope I never have to your clingy ass again, Kang Haeeun.”

Woohyun ruffles my hair. “You’re going to be big one day and you better remember us.”

I nod, sniffling. “I love you guys.” And then Baekhyun is carrying me again, my face pressed against his chest as I tremble.

Back at his place, he’s currently disinfecting my cuts quietly. He can’t look at me. I sigh into my hands. “Did I piss you off or something?”

“You did,” he answers softly.

“And what about now?” I question, anchoring my attention on his dark brown hair. It hasn’t been brushed. As if he’d rushed to find me, forgetting to look after himself. As if I’d been more important.

I move my hands to the top of his head, gently threading my stiff fingers through his locks and pulling them apart. The bandages make it hard, but I don’t stop.

He stares up at me, and I can make out the tiny swirl of vulnerability. I don’t know what went through my mind at this point. Maybe because his hair had been too soft. Or maybe because his eyes had been the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Brown—glistening from the ambient lights of the sunset filtering through the window.

I lean closer to him, watching the way his eyes drop to my lips. He doesn’t move an inch, and I expect him to push me off. Say something. Or change the topic, even. But he doesn’t, and then our lips are barely brushing when I stop, meeting his eyes again.

His pupils tremor and every breath I take right now is his. I’m stealing everything. His place. His attention. His oxygen. And now, his lips.

Closing my eyes, I press a kiss to the corner of his lips. And then I’m running my tongue against his bottom lip, groaning quietly. Because they really do taste as good as I’d expected.

Chocolate. Toasted cinnamon. Gingerbread. Home.

I pull away, exhaling shakily. I can’t meet his eyes. I’m afraid to see resentment or worse—he wants me out of here. I’d just crossed the line. The line that he’d clearly been drawing since the very first day.

“Forget—“ My words never leave my mouth when he captures my lips again in a searing kiss. My back hits the soft leather of his sofa as he moves to climb on top of me, his lips never leaving my mouth. I moan his name. Everywhere he touches me feels like an imprint. As if this moment isn’t just going to be remembered in my mind.

No, I’ll remember him everywhere, his touches ghosting over my skin. The phantom sensation of his gentle squeeze and caress. His fingers slip under my shirt, moving to cup my breast. He pushes away my bralette, kneading at my sensitive breast.

With his other hand, he tilts my chin, and I open, letting his tongue push in—exploring me. Our breathing is ragged, and he moans into my mouth when I push up into him, feeling his erection on my stomach.

And _fuck—_ every part of him feels good. The way he touches me feels good. The way he sounds is good. Overwhelmingly good. I’ve never felt this energy—the electric sizzle of the atmosphere as it crashes around us.

Every hair on the surface of my skin raises, goosebumps chasing after his fingers when he runs them on my bare skin.

My stomach. My breast. My legs.

And then he stops. Before it gets good—before he’s able to finish what he’d started between my legs. My mouth falls open as I watch him with anxious eyes.

He pulls back, sitting upright. His face is ashen— _pale_. He doesn’t look at me anymore. And it makes me feel like I’m responsible for whatever this is. His aloofness. Our space.

But inside, I’m aware that I wasn’t the only one who'd wanted this. He’d wanted it too. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his tongue tracing my teeth—inviting me to meet his tongue and savor his intoxicating flavor.

I can still feel the way he took in my bottom lip, pulling and testing me as if he were my scientist and I’d been a complicated chemical. But after he had a taste, he was set on writing the equation. _Solving_ me.

Baekhyun runs a shaky hand in his hair as he launches onto his feet. “I’m sorry,” is all he says before he’s out the door, leaving behind an addict.

Because after I’d gotten a taste, I’d come to an awful realization that he’s the only man suitable for my palette. And it’d seemed that no matter how much water I attempt to drink to dilute him, I will never be able to get him out. I drop on my back, hiding my face.

_What do I do now?_

Baekhyun avoids all contact with me the next day and for the upcoming week. We settle into a routine of what I can only call as monotony.

I sleep in his bed alone. I wake up alone. I go to school alone.

Baekhyun sleeps on his couch. He wakes up after I leave and heads to school. And when he gets home, I’ve already made dinner and I’m washing the dishes, avoiding his eyes.

He quietly thanks me, and then the only sound that echoes between us is the silverware clinking as he eats. And then I go back to shutting myself in his room.

We don’t talk anymore. He doesn’t try to ask me about anything. Not about my past. Not about my name. Not about my future plans.

We simply skirt around each other. Because it seems like it’d been the best option to forget. _Except_ it’s useless because I can’t close my eyes without feeling him on me—as if the kiss happened yesterday and not a week ago.

One day, I’m sitting cross-legged on his sofa under the soft plush throw that smells like him. My eyes are focused on the movie in front of me. Chick flicks—the only thing I’d hoped that would be able to raise my spirit.

I feel the spot beside me dip, and my head whips to my left. Baekhyun doesn’t look at me. Something I’ve gotten used to, but it still hurts.

“What are you watching?” He asks.

I pull up the fleece blanket, drowning myself in a piece of him since he's decidedly cut me off. “The Notebook,” I answer, muffled by his blanket.

Baekhyun turns to me, eyes glimmering with something that I can’t read. “You don’t look like the type to enjoy cheesy romance.”

I snort. “What genre do I look like I’d enjoy?”

“Horror,” he answers.

My lips twitch. “You’re not wrong.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Evil Dead.”

He grows silent for a beat. “Why?”

“Because it gives me hope. It was made cheaply—barely a workable budget—but Raimi and his friends overcame that. They made something big together out of—“ I breathe, “ _nothing_.”

Baekhyun chews on his lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. I stare at him quietly, waiting for his reply. “You’re _not_ nothing,” he finally says after what had seemed like hours.

I laugh bitterly. “It’s kind of hard to think otherwise nowadays.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry.”

Our eyes meet and then we’re laughing. Just a chest heavy, hysterical laugh that seems to have come out of nowhere, but we don’t stop. We laugh and laugh, clutching our stomachs.

Maybe we’re just laughing away the kiss. Laughing away the supercharged tension whenever we’re in the same room. Whatever it is, it seems to work.

“Let’s start over,” he implores, eyes retracing their paths back to me.

I tilt my head. “What?”

He presses on, “my name’s Byun Baekhyun. Nice to meet you.”

The corner of my lips rises, displaying my dimples. I stick a hand out. “Nice to meet you, Baekhyun. I’m Kang Haeeun.” He takes my hand, grasping it firmly. He feels electric. So warm and tender. And I want to continue to hold his hand, but I opt out, afraid I’ll mess up whatever it is we’re doing.

And then we don’t speak anymore. Our focus returns to the movie, but somewhere between the middle and end, he sidles up beside me, letting me rest my head against his shoulder. My heart warms, but deep in my gut, I feel the pinch of fear and I have a terrible feeling that it isn’t coming from our blooming friendship.

[2019-2020; present]

“What were you talking about with Miyoung yesterday?” Baekhyun asks as my mind comes back to reality.

I squirm. “Just exchanged some pleasantries.”

He scoffs, not believing an ounce of my bullshit. “I guess you both must think I’m a moron.”

I chew on the inside of my cheeks. “Why is it any of your business what goes on between me and other people?”

Baekhyun levels an icy look at me, and I shudder. “Because I have a feeling the conversation involved me, and you’re both hiding something important.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because whether Miyoung had told me the truth or lies, Baekhyun is still essentially the same.

Sharp as always, and he’s able to see past my mask. And that truly terrifies me. He can still unravel me, spin me like a top, and I would never be able to escape his grasp.

The memory of Miyoung flashes in my head and I remember everything.

The way she’d smiled at me as if nothing had ever gone wrong. She asked me how I’d been doing, and I warily asked her why she cared.

Miyoung told me she was getting married, and she’d wanted me to attend her wedding. I was uncomfortable by her request because I couldn’t tell if she’d been dead serious or just out of her fucking mind.

And then she told me things about Baekhyun. Things that made my stomach do backflips and cartwheels off a twenty-story building.

He’d lost all his memories from two years ago—the year he’d taken me in. He couldn’t remember anything about me. And honestly, I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or pissed that he could forget—even if it hadn’t been his doing. All this time, I’d wanted to lose his grip on me. Because wherever I ran, the shadow of his presence was always a step behind.

I could never get far until he dragged down my conscience. I’d abandoned him. And even if he’d done the most heinous thing that broke every piece of my heart, I’d still left him even when I’d promised that I’d hear him out.

We’re two time-ticking bombs ready to explode in the vicinity of one another. I’m dangerous to him. I could bring up the past. Release the chaos back into his life.

Miyoung had begged me not to say anything. To pretend that I didn’t know him at all. I’d wanted to laugh in her face. Did she think it was easy for me? To disregard everything that had happened between us?

His kisses. Our secrets. My _feelings_.

“I don’t care,” he tells me.

My eyes snap back to him. “ _What?_ ”

“About what you both talked about. I don’t want to know. You’re nothing to me. Not even a little pest. What happened last night—“ He barks out a laugh. “It was a _mistake_.”

My blood races in my stream, blurring the sounds from around me. His voice. My friend's laughter. The cashier calling for the next person. I feel the signs of a panic attack—christ, right now? I haven’t had one in a while now that I think about it.

I could feel my surroundings beginning to blur together in one messy monogamous color. I dig my nails into my palm, letting the pain bring me back. Exhaling shakily, I grab his collar, tugging him until we’re nose to nose.

He stares at me, eyes round. I can count the tiny specks of brown in his eyes. I can see the individual shapes of his anger and defensiveness forming. “No,” I bite out.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about—“

“You don’t get to use my body for one night and tell me I’m a fucking mistake,” I snap. “Listen, asshole. We’re not done until I say we’re done. You’re right, _Bae_. I’m a fucking pest, and I won’t give until I’m done ruining your life. So, sit back and watch, Mr. Byun. The fun’s only beginning.”

I throw him a polite smile before heading up the cashier whose eyes are currently darting between the two of us cautiously.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

I nod, smiling confidently. “Peachy, can I have—“

Baekhyun moves next to me, ramming into me purposely. I hiss, glaring. “A regular cold brew, please. It’s on her,” he tells the cashier.

The cashier blinks rapidly. “Um—“

I cough out an incredulous laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for it. He’s—“ I point to my head, spinning my index finger. “I’ll get the same thing please.”

Baekhyun leans into my ear, whispering two words that send a thousand tingles down my spine, “ _game on_.”

“Don’t cry to me when you’re the one burned from this,” I reply, maintaining my casual smile as I hand the cashier my card.

“Oh, Kang, nobody ever told you to not count your eggs before they hatched?" He throws me a lazy smile, before saying, "thanks for the coffee, and the sex—you _were_ a nice lay.”

I clench my jaw. “You’re welcome, but I can’t say the same about you, Mr. Byun. You’re mediocre at best.”

Baekhyun ignores me, walking to the pick-up queue.

I angrily stomp back to my friends, sitting down with a huff. It looks like Kyungsoo and Jongin saw the whole exchange, except only they hadn’t heard a single word.

Jongin taps my shoulder. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two had a wild fucking night.” And then he sings, letter by letter, “t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r.” Can this boy be any more annoying? I ignore him.

Kyungsoo glances at me suspiciously. “You’re wearing his hoodie,” he notes. I glance down, thumbing the soft fabric. “It’s his favorite. He always wears it on Wednesday.”

I feign, “I think we just have similar taste in clothes.”

“Really? You two looked really chummy up there. You’re playing a dangerous game, Hae. I hope you know what you’re doing,” he alleges, sparing me with pitiful glances contrary to his words.

Jongin looks serious for once. “You were his lover last night, weren’t you?”

I stay silent for a beat, but it seems that my friends are more quick-witted than I gave them credit for. I can’t lie to them anymore. So I answer weakly, “yes, okay? Happy?”

Kyungsoo sighs as if I’ve confirmed the worst-case scenario playing in his mind. “Are you willing to risk everything? His career and your future?” It’s almost like he knows that this won’t be the last time that Baekhyun and I dance on the tightrope.

“I’m going to ruin him,” I grit through my teeth. “I’m going to destroy every last bit of him. Fucking watch me. Because I’m gonna be the one with the last laugh.”


	6. esoteric

**[haeeun]**

Class resumes normally on Monday, and Baekhyun is acting as if nothing has happened. Like the vague bet between us hadn’t occurred at all. And quite frankly, it pushes me over just a bit into the territory of rage.

I’d gotten out of bed on the wrong side and checked my phone only to be more bothered. Tamara texted me that she’d be missing Halloween and every day next month, which automatically means I’ll be confined to my room, marathoning horror movies and making Tamara voodoo dolls only to stab them repeatedly.

I should’ve known that when she’d adopted me that Tamara was never going to truly act like my guardian. No, she’d give me a place to stay and money to spend.

No matter how much I spent on my card, she didn’t call me out. She didn’t yell at me. And that only flared my anger and defiance. Until I’d finally gotten the memo. She didn’t give a shit, and I had to stop being pathetic and pick up my own pieces.

So, I stuffed my mommy issues, and the rest of my godforsaken past into the proverbial box and shoved it deep under my bed. It would never see the surface again. That I can assure.

Baekhyun spent class time humiliating me. He’d known that I didn’t do a single problem from our homework. He’d continued to pick me to answer the problems on the board.

We’d begun derivatives, and to his annoyance, I spent twenty minutes, drawing a medically accurate penis and proceeding to draw his face on the head of the penis.

At least my classmates had found it funny. Kyungsoo sent me horrified looks, but I ignored him, smiling at Jongin who took pictures.

“Class dismissed,” Baekhyun announces as the bell rings. Everyone launches out of their seat, escaping the classroom without glancing back.

Kyungsoo and Jongin meet me at my desk, but Baekhyun clears his throat, interrupting our conversation about lunch plans.

I narrow my eyes at him, and he only cocks an eyebrow at me, daring me to say something. “See you in French,” I tell them, waving.

Kyungsoo levels a look at Baekhyun. “Lock your door,” he tells him.

Jongin adds, “Use condoms!”

And then they leave us alone after the door clicks to a close. I snort. Yeah, no. Not today, Satan. I stand, swinging my bag over my shoulders.

“You’re leaving?” He asks, but his tone is indifferent.

“In case you didn’t notice, second period begins in four minutes.”

A cocky smile spreads on his pink lips as he stands, leaning back against the whiteboard. “So you were just spouting bullshit the other day, okay—“ He closes his agenda. “Good to know.”

The anger and annoyance I’ve been holding the entire morning claw their way up to my neck, squeezing tightly. Until I can't breathe without seeing red. I silently tread to his door, locking it shut—credits to Kyungsoo. And then I toss my bag on the floor, marching over to him.

He watches me, curiosity shining in his brown eyes. I pull him roughly by his tie, and he jerks forward—close enough for me to attack his pale neck.

“Wait—“ He begins, but I don’t listen. I bite down, sucking and rejoicing in his groans. I can feel his resistance weakening already.

I did tell him not to test me. But he didn’t listen and let’s just say I have a feeling my environmental science teacher isn’t going to be very happy when I show up to his class thirty minutes late.

I push him against the whiteboard, watching him groan as I palm his hard-on. “Aren’t you going to stop me, Mr. Byun?” I taunt, leaning forward.

He heaves several breaths and then cockily smirks. “Why should I stop you when you’re in your habitat?”

My jaw clenches. “How low can you fucking get? Now you’re slut-shaming me?”

Baekhyun pushes forward, our foreheads colliding roughly. I wince but don’t tear my eyes away from him. I’m not going to show an ounce of fear because I know that’s what he wants. “Listen, Kang. I don’t care how you take my words. If you got slut from that, what can I say? If you know, you know.”

I laugh, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow as he tries to read me. Fuck him. I grasp his chin, pulling it toward me. And then I’m licking a line between his upper and lower lip. He moans, his grip tightening around my hips. I can feel him mark me— _bruise_ me. And it turns me on.

I unzip his pants, slipping my fingers into his boxers. His half erection hardens almost immediately. I flick my eyes up to watch him. His eyes are clouded with lust as he waits, anticipating my next move. I pull my hand out, backing away so I can spit in them.

His eyes trace the path of my spit and his Adam apple dips. My lips curl as I kiss the sensitive skin of his neck again, going over the purple that I’ve already marked on him the other night.

Then I dip my hands in his pants, gripping his erection and pulling it out from his boxers. He curses, head falling on my shoulder. I use my other free hand, spitting more and swirling the precum leaking from the head of his pretty pink cock onto his shaft. He jerks, squeezing his eyes shut when I pump him in my palms. Slow. Torturously.

I’m surprised he’s letting me take over, his hands still on my waist. He doesn't make a move to push me away or anything else for that matter. I kiss the exposed skin of his collarbone, dipping my tongue in the crevice. He swears and his sounds vibrate in the small space between us.

I clench my thighs together, feeling my core drip with my own juices. I hate that he makes my body weak for him. I hate that my knees want to buckle from simply listening to his moans. But I don’t stop and I take it up a notch, interlacing my fingers. The pressure makes him fall against me. My butt hits the back of his desk from his weight, but it’s delicious.

The guarantee that I’m the only one who feels this way. How fucking delightful. “ _Faster_ ,” he pants, his sticky breath hitting my bare shoulder.

I give him what he wants, snapping my wrist. A moan falls from my lips when he bites down onto my shoulder. And then I use the pad of my thumb, creating friction on the slit of his cock. My back almost breaks in half when he slams down onto me, catching himself with a shaky hand on his desk. He stills, inflicting a sharp pain when his teeth break into my skin as he stifles his noises.

I pull away, eyes dropping to watch his cum spurt in ropes, covering both of our clothes. He comes and comes, and at this point, I’m no longer angry. Just giddy.

I take my index dipping it into a small pool of his seeds dripping off of my crop top. Then, I taste him, humming pleasantly. He’s salty, musky, and so, so masculine. He’s still dazed from the culmination of pleasure, so I take his bottom lips between mine, prodding into his hot cavern with my tongue. I push the taste of himself onto his wet muscle. And then he’s kissing me back lazily, mewling. But before it gets any further, I push him off of me.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows disappear above his hairline as he attempts to gauge my next action. I tsk, moving to suck on his Adam apple that dips again. And then I murmur, “the next time you call me a slut or imply that I am one—remember that I won’t be this generous. Now, excuse me, Mr. Duval is already having a field day, wondering where his angelic student is.”

Then, I leave his classroom with a smile and a stained shirt that I can easily brush off as something else because it’s white. But it also delights me that both of us are the only ones now perfectly aware of the rules of our newfound game. And then there’s the bit that whenever he sees me wearing this shirt, he’ll be reminded of the day I made him come so hard with just my hand in the supposedly puritanical venue of _school_.

That should teach him that Kang Haeeun is anything but a pushover.

My friends decide to go for panini presses for lunch in the cafe just several blocks from our school. I text Milan, asking her what she’d wanted.

“What does Mil want?” Jongin asks, reading the menu board intently.

Kyungsoo hums, “I think I’m getting ham and Swiss.”

I answer Jongin, “she says whatever is fine.”

“Kyung, you’re so boring. The house special is where it’s at,” Jongin says with a shake of his head.

I laugh. “You have the palette of a ten-year-old.”

“Second that. Kyungha, his little sister, can out-eat him. And she’s like four,” Jongin shares, waving his hands.

Kyungsoo tucks his chin, mouth pressed in a thin line. “I shouldn’t have asked you both out for lunch.”

I pout. “So you want me to starve?”

He snorts. “I thought you were full from Mr. Byun’s semen.”

My jaw falls open when Jongin bursts out laughing, pointing his index at me. “That wasn’t funny,” I quip, crossing my arms.

Jongin wipes his tears. “No, no. That was pretty funny. He roasted your ass. Want some ice for that burn, baby girl?”

I flip them both the bird, and Kyungsoo’s lip twitches as he throws an arm over my shoulders. “I’m just kidding, Hae. Though I’ll admit, that was kinda mean. What do you want? It’s on me.”

Jongin gasps. “You’re fake. How could you play favorites? What about me?”

I deadpan, “first of all, your pillowcase is probably made out of gold and stuffed with hundred dollar bills. And—“ I poke his chest. “—you drive a Porsche.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “You have a Tesla, Hae.”

“By the way, Mr. Byun came on my shirt.”

I watch as Kyungsoo jerk away from me in horror. Jongin squints his eyes at my shirt. “I really didn’t want to know that. Christ, you are freaky as fuck.”

“Says the guy who gets laid on a daily basis in the library,” I say, pretending to yawn.

Kyungsoo coughs out a laugh. “Alright, guys. No catfights.”

Jongin grins, bumping my shoulders, which makes me bump in Kyungsoo. “I fucking love you guys.”

When we get our hotly made paninis, we immediately begin to dig in, and god. Melted ooey-gooey cheese pulling when from just the first bite? Absolutely heaven, I tell you. I moan, tapping my feet on the ground.

“Like I said—freaky,” Jongin teases.

Kyungsoo ignores him, focusing on his own panini. “So, since you’re set on ruining your graduation for a man way too old for you—what are your future plans?”

I pause. “I don’t know.”

My friend lifts a brow. “What do you mean? Are you thinking about college? Or erm—getting a job straight out of high school?”

Jongin notices my discomfort and he butts in, “Kyung, chill out. We still have time. Not everyone made plans since the first day of freshman year.”

I snort. “What? When I was in ninth, all I thought about was the hot senior guys I’d wanted to suck off.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes playfully. “Go put a dollar in the whore jar, Hae.”

I merely shrug. “What are your plans?”

“I want to be a teacher. I’ve always loved the aspect of teaching kids, you know? Elementary kids. Kyungha was so cute, but I felt like she grew up way too fast. I want to feel that feeling again—being looked up to. Does that make sense?” His eyes are twinkling as he stares off into the distance. My heart tugs. He sounds happy like he’d gotten everything figured out.

Jongin laughs. “Your sister is snappier than a snapping turtle. But yes, Kyung, I can see that in you. I think you’ll be great.”

I nod. “I’m jealous that you have a clear vision of your future. I just—“ I choke out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t really see myself surviving past twenty-one.”

My friends grow silent. It’s nearing the end of August, and I’d already told them about my fostering situation. I didn’t tell them everything. Not Baekhyun. Not the other man. Not the most important parts that made me the person I am today.

And every time I bring the subject up, I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. I know I don’t owe them an explanation, but the two boys have really grown on me. I trust them. I really do. Just not enough to open my heart.

I didn’t want them to see me in a new light. I want them to see me as who I am to them. Their ditzy friend.

“So,” Jongin begins, trying to disassemble the weird atmosphere. “Sehun’s throwing a party…”

Kyungsoo drops his head onto crossed arms, groaning, “ _no_.”

“Hear me out—“

I laugh. “Jong, it’s a _Monday_.”

He tilts his head. “So? Sehun’s kind of cool that way—breaking out of the norms. Fuck Friday parties. The cops usually bust that shit in a minute.”

Kyungsoo heaves an exasperated sigh. “I have to study. _You_ have to study. We have an oral French quiz tomorrow.”

“Come on! I’ll be fine. I can just sweet talk my way into an _A_. Mme Boudier actually likes me, you know?” Jongin pleads, jutting his lips out.

I squint my eyes. “Actually, Jong. She hates you second to hating me. You translated an erotica novel and she almost threw a textbook at your head, remember?”

Jongin chuckles, eyes misty as he recounts the second week of school. “Oh yeah, I got so much money off of that bet.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were poor.”

“Just give me an answer!” He moans, slamming his hands on the wooden table obnoxiously.

I exchange a look with Kyungsoo. “Sorry, Jong. I’m on Kyung’s side this time.”

When we head back to the lockers, Jongin is still sulking. Kyungsoo and I are used to this by now, so we ignore him. I open my locker to grab my binder for psychology when a note slips out.

I bend down to grab it, and my eyes quickly glaze over the writing. At first, I don’t really think much of it until the gravity of the words finally hit me.

My jaw clenches, fingers shaking.

“Dude,” Jongin prompts, glancing at me worriedly. I turn to him, eyes questioning. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”

I shake my head, laughing nervously. “I’m fine.”

Kyungsoo drags a hawkish gaze over my face. “What’s on the paper?”

I immediately crumple it in my hands. “Jisoo,” I tell them.

“Jisoo?”

“She’s telling me to stop being so friendly with Mr. Byun,” I lie. Technically, it hadn’t been a lie. Her glares were really obvious as of late. She’d also tripped me last week when she saw Baekhyun laugh at something I whispered to him in class.

But what she didn’t know was that he’d only been laughing because he’d gotten my secret message. I’d threatened to chop off his balls in a million pieces and feed them to his lusty-dusty suitors.

Kyungsoo and Jongin exchange funny looks. And then Jongin breaks into a wide grin. Kyungsoo snorts. “If only she knew what was actually going on.”

Jongin offers me a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder. “Want me to tell her to stop?”

I shake my head. “Nah, it’s nothing I can’t deal with. They’re just a bunch of green-eyed trolls.” Of course, I’m referring to Jisoo and her posse.

Kyungsoo and Jongin bite the bullet, and relief floods me.

“Jong,” I call out before he turns to leave.

Jongin stops. “Yeah?”

“About the party…”

His eyes twinkle. “You’re coming!” And then he also shouts, “that’s what she said!”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “ _Why?_ ”

I shrug. “Free booze, and now that I’m going, you _have_ to come.”

Kyungsoo knows he doesn’t have the heart to say no to us. The three of us make plans to head to the party at eight-thirty. Kyungsoo says we’re taking an Uber because he doesn’t want either of us driving home and also due to personal reasons, Kyungsoo, himself, doesn’t go behind the wheel.

I wave them goodbye as I head to fifth period. The note is still crumpled in my palm. I swallow nervously as I chuck it in the nearest garbage.

There’s just no way— _impossible_ even—that he found me. But I didn’t know what to believe. After all, Baekhyun had crossed paths with me again. I swallow, trying to play if it off as a coincidence.

It was a bad idea to drink. I should’ve realized that after going cold turkey for several months, I wouldn’t have the same tolerance. I should’ve realized that alcohol and Baekhyun are magnets. The first time I’d gotten drunk, we fucked. A lot. Everywhere. And even if I couldn’t remember most of it, I could feel his breath and tongue swirling on my skin.

To the point that I’d touch myself to him.

I’ve reached an all-time low. I’m aware. But I’m also the stupid idiot who texted Baekhyun’s old number. How did I still memorize it? Beats me.

And he’d answered and is also currently heading to the party. I jam my phone back into my jean pocket, covering my face in absolute mortification.

What the fuck did I just do?

Kyungsoo and Jongin are beside me, debating about the intense seminar in AP Gov earlier. And I couldn’t relate so I stood there awkwardly, staring at the black lights on the ceiling. How did Sehun even manage to get them up there without his dad losing his head?

But I know better. Trying to understand jocks is like expecting a dog to respond to you in words. In other words, impossible.

Somehow, Jongin had gotten Kyungsoo tipsy and now Kyungsoo is dragging me into the mass of bodies dancing and grinding to the blaring music.

I relent because he’s cute with his splotchy cheeks. Jongin twerks on me as a joke, and I push Kyungsoo in his direction, watching the shorter boy yelp as Jongin catches him. I stifle a laugh as he lurches away and continues dancing as if nothing had happened.

Ah. This is why Kyungsoo doesn’t get drunk. He’s usually in his own world, but with a little alcohol, everything is turned up to a solid ten.

Jongin stands back, recording Kyungsoo currently whooping and jumping up on the coffee table, shaking his ass. We’re both dying at his antics.

And then I feel someone press their groin into my ass. I whirl around in panic only to see Baekhyun with a cheeky smile. “You scared the crap out of me,” I hiss, slapping his chest. “Why are you here?”

He hums, “you texted me.”

“What if I’d been a complete stranger?” I ask, crossing my arms.

Baekhyun chuckles. “Then I’m lucky that you aren’t?”

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

He ignores me, planting a firm foot and anchoring his attention on me. Unintentionally, I size him up. He’s wearing a pastel purple hoodie and a fisherman beanie and that’s when I also realize he’s wearing glasses. My heart flutters at how unexpectedly soft he looks. The frames make him look so boyish. He doesn’t look like the man who fucked me senseless the other night.

And so I suddenly want him to fuck these feelings away. The butterflies. The frayed nerves. No, I need him to screw me so roughly that all I see are stars. So I can shove these deviated emotions back into the proverbial box.

I pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his beanie, covering his face. And then I drag him onto the dance floor. Other than the flashing disco lights, the place is dark, so there’s no chance anyone will catch us.

He humors me, following me into the middle. In every direction, there are teenagers pushing against us. I think he appreciates the fact that I’m protecting him even though we’re playing this dangerous game.

Baekhyun drags his hands over my shoulders until one of his hand is cupping the back of my head.

I flash him a dark smile as I sway my hips on his, watching his bright eyes grow darker and darker—until they’re ravenously black.

I shiver because even though I should be used these eyes, I’m not. They draw me in, inviting me to jump off the tightrope, and honestly, I’d fucking do it. I’d dive off headfirst. He makes me forget the consequences. He makes me forget about my problems. And right now? That’s exactly what I’d needed.

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me,” I murmur into our kiss.

He laughs, pulling away for a beat. “I’m gonna return the favor, wise girl.”

I bite his bottom lip, smiling when he flinches. “Be _specific_.”

Baekhyun thrusts his hips so hard that it rattles me. My bone. My teeth. The pain is so excruciatingly good, and I can’t help the moans that spill out of me. “Well, let’s see. If I’m lucky I’ll get to play with your clit—watch you come all over my fingers. And what else? Maybe come all over me when I’m balls deep inside of you?”

“You’re such an arrogant son of a bitch. How do you know I’ll come? I’m hard to please, Mr. Byun.”

“Baekhyun,” he grunts as I reach down to squeeze his erection.

I lift my eyebrows at him, and then I’m grinning smugly. “I knew you would cave eventually, Bae.”

Baekhyun’s eyes snap open, and he narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you call me that?”

And for a second, I forget what we’re doing. I forget that we’re practically dry-humping in the middle of a dozen teenagers. The words clog up in my throats. _Because I used to you call that._

He doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he doesn’t seem to give a fuck—because he tugs me closer, kissing me again. “Call me that again,” he growls.

Baekhyun swallows my moan, and I do it. I call him Bae because it seems to turn him on. And his possessiveness arouses me. Like an invisible force climbing from inside of me—clawing its way out for air.

He breaks our heated kiss and pushes two fingers in my mouth. “Suck,” he demands hotly. I swirl my tongue around his fingers, sucking—feeling the way my cheeks hollow in. He chuckles watching me, eyes not moving for even a second.

I watch him pull my hips flush to him by my belt loop. He unbuttons my jeans swiftly with his other hand and then he presses two fingers, glistening from my saliva, onto my sensitive heated skin. “Oh fuck,” I gasp. “No fucking way—there are too many people.”

He shushes me, latching onto my jaw and pressing seductive butterfly kisses. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll do it,” he tells me, tongue darting out to lick the marks that haven’t faded yet.

My glance flickers onto everyone else. They’re all too busy in their own world to notice us. The smell of sex already lingers in the air—clinging to our clothes. I turn back to him, and he smiles. “Good girl.” His fingers move, thumb and index separating my folds.

And then he stretches his long fingers, plunging his index and middle finger inside of me. My knees almost buckle, but his arms hold me up against him. We’re pushed to the back by the crowd into a dark corner. My backside hits something solid, and I realize that we’re at the base of the staircase.

My drifting attention snaps back to him when his thumb meets my clit. “Holy fuck—“ I choke out, grabbing onto his shoulders.

He laughs against my neck. “You’re already so wet for me. Tell me—have you been waiting all day?”

I don’t want to answer him. I really don’t because it’s embarrassing to admit, so I deflect, “why would I?”

Baekhyun hums, his sounds vibrating on my gleaming skin from his spit. “Keep lying to yourself, Kang. We both know that _I’m_ the only person who can make you come.”

I whimper when the familiar searing heat begins to rise inside of my stomach. Baekhyun drops his head from my neck. He takes advantage of me having no bra. My nipples pinch from under the fabric of my tube top. He doesn’t even bother pulling the fabric down—instead, diving to bite my erect peaks. I jerk in his hands. The fabric is wet and cold from the draft above us and he continues to bite and pull. The fluctuation in temperature and pressure overwhelm me.

And with the culmination of his hands stretching—thrusting up inside of me and his thumb persistently circling my clit, I explode, releasing a muffled cry as I clamp my mouth shut. Though I’d suspected no one would even notice if I’d let out an earth-shattering scream over the booming music.

I want to sob when he continues fucking me with his fingers. I’m shaking against him, begging him to stop but he doesn’t and I come again the second time. The loud music around us fades in my ears and I can only hear white noise. My second orgasm is intense, splintering and crackling like the beginning of a flame when it chases the slick of gasoline.

Baekhyun finally spares me, slipping his fingers out. But he grabs my chin, shoving the fingers inside of my mouth. “Lick it off, Kang. Tell me how good your lie tastes.”

I’m at his mercy. Every part of me. Weak. Trembling. I can’t think anymore. My rationality drowned somewhere in my first orgasm. “Please fuck me,” I beg drunkenly. Not from cheap booze. Not from drugs. _No_ —from the highs of the numerous orgasms he’s given with his fingers alone.

His eyes search mine. I see smugness. But I also see an urgency. He wants me. Byun Baekhyun fucking wants me and he’s going to see to it.

He pulls my body into another direction. “Where’s the toilet?” He asks someone.

The person points him down the hallway, and I allow him to drag me, slamming the door shut behind and locking it.

He pushes me against the sink, tugging my jeans off artfully. And I’m stumbling through my haze of pleasure, pulling his denim off. He barks out a laugh, realizing that I didn’t even bother unbuttoning them. Whatever. Embarrassment can hit me later.

Him inside of me is a priority. I’m ravished, and he’s spoiling me.

Baekhyun lifts me onto the marble and my back presses into the cold mirror behind me. And when I’m finally able to pry away his pants, his cock juts up against his stomach.

I’m probably drooling, and it’s not unwarranted. No, he has a very, very nice cock. Girthy. Not too long. It curves a little and the head protrudes, gleaming with precum—shiny, all ready to be devoured. Swallowed. And savored.

“Like what you see?” He teases, kissing my cheek.

I painfully break my gaze from his erection and meet his eyes again. “Very,” I articulate. And then I practically plead for him to enter me.

Baekhyun fixes his sex, and then he’s pushing inside of me. He watches his cock being swallowed by my cunt, eyes blazing with interest. Fascinated that I’m able to take most of him. And it’s hard. He’s big. I’d already known that, but it always takes a few seconds for me to adjust.

I wrap my arms around his back, nodding. And he moves, thrusting at a slow pace. Purposely testing me. I drop one hand on the counter for leverage and then I’m dropping my hips toward him. I almost faint, forgetting about gravity.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Don’t—“

I ignore him, pushing my hips down again. “Oh—god, you’re so—“ I mewl, dropping my head back.

“So deep inside of you. Fuck. I can’t—“ He grips onto the counter, slowing down.

I roll my hips again, letting my clit grind against him as his cock disappears inside of me again and again. And then he’s skillfully lifting my right leg over his shoulder, drilling into me relentlessly. My breasts bounce from the violence of his fucking.

My eyes follow the sweat of his exertion rolling off of his forehead onto my chest. And at this time, my vision blurs from the bliss of my high threatening to break me in half. I dig my nails into his back, and he winces from the pain, but I can tell it’s what pushes him over the edge because he’s _coming_.

My jaw slackens as I feel his cum coating my insides. “Oh my god—“ I rasp, but I don’t finish my sentence because he doesn’t waste a single second and helps me finish, rubbing perfect circles on my hooded clit and continuously pounding into me.

I jerk under him—my third orgasm ripping a scream out of me and _spasms_. Every muscle in my body spasms. Unabatingly. Incessantly. _Nonstop_.

And I’m shaking so hard that I can feel him hardening inside of me again. Baekhyun kisses my shoulder—the spot that he bit in the morning. He grimaces from the scabs. “Did it hurt?”

I blink at him. “It’s—“ I break eye contact. I’m a coward. I can’t look at him. Or I’ll feel it. I plaster on a big girl smile. “I’m fine.”

Baekhyun sucks on the spot, eliciting another moan from me. “You know—you don’t look at me when you’re lying.”

I laugh. “Stalker much?”

His eyes glint in the light. Playful. He’s joking with me. “How many orgasms did this stalker give you, huh? I mean—not that I’m counting.”

I snort. “Shut up. Tell Baekhyun Jr. to stop twitching for fuck’s sake.”

Baekhyun ignores me, stealing a kiss again. “I don’t speak for him.”


	7. amiable

**[haeeun]**

[2017; past]

So I may or may not have purposefully wore nothing to sleep. I’d known he would see me, but I didn’t expect him to _not_ do anything.

Baekhyun and I are in the territory of being strictly friends. We don’t talk about the kiss. We don’t talk about our seemingly blatant lust.

He asks me about my day, and I ask him about his. He’s in the last year of residency, so he’s usually busy with clinicals and exams. I’ve seen how stressed out he is, so is it bad that I just want him to unwind?

My eyes flutter open to the dark. I check the time. It’s currently midnight. I wonder if he’s home at all. On Fridays, he usually goes out with his classmates for drinks, and he never returns until ungodly hours.

But he’s a pretty good drinker, so I’ve never seen him out of it. I glance down at myself, sighing. Why did I even bother?

Maybe the kiss was a fluke. Maybe I was too kiddy for him. I wander into his closet, pulling a white cotton t-shirt over me. When I head out to the living room, I hear the clattering of something. My ears keen and I listen.

Immediately, my cheeks flush because this is the first time I’ve heard his sounds in a while—moaning my name. I clamp a hand over my mouth, sneaking around quietly.

He’s standing, one arm propped on the marble island, and the other hand on his cock. I lick my lips, watching his hands fly in a blur.

I lean on the other side of the marble—where he can’t see me—and I push two fingers down my panties. I close my eyes, pretending he’s doing it to me. I wonder how he feels inside of me. Will he stretch me to the brim? Will I feel full with his cock inside of me? I bite down my lip, stifling my groan.

Behind me, Baekhyun’s belt buckle is clanging against the counter. I wish I can taste him, but I’m a coward. I curl my fingers, grazing my g-spot. It takes me by surprise because I jerk backward into the barstool behind me.

I gasp aloud. _Fuck_.

Baekhyun stops, and I stop dead in my tracks—my orgasm falling dead as well. I pull my hand out, jumping up to my feet.

Avoiding his gaze, I say, “sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you—“

“Did you hear everything?” His voice is low and gravelly. I shiver, my eyes darting everywhere but him.

“I—“

“Answer the question, Eun.”

I chew on my bottom lips. “Some of it. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun heaves a sigh. “Look at me.”

I don’t look at him. Partly because I’m too embarrassed. And partly because I’m too horrified that he almost caught me touching myself to him.

He walks over to me, tilting my chin up. His eyes are teeming with hunger. But he doesn’t address it. It makes me feel pathetic. Am I the only one who feels this way? Dangerously careening on the edge of want?

“It’s late. You should go to bed,” he finally says after a beat.

I clench my jaw. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I said I can’t go to bed. Not while you’re out here jerking off to me,” I repeat again, this time, my voice stronger and bolder.

Baekhyun backs away from me. “I’m sorry,” is all he says.

That’s not what I wanted to hear. I don’t want another apology. What were we even apologizing for? For wanting each other? It wasn’t like I had feelings for him or anything. And if we kept it our mouths shut, no one would find out.

I push him against the counter again, kneeling down. He gasps when I spit on his cock. We watch my saliva drip down his shaft. He’s hard— _painfully_ hard. It only further confirms my suspicion. He can’t deny it anymore. The fact that I arouse him.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, lifting my head to meet his eyes.

Baekhyun’s breathing is ragged as he stares at me between conflict and need. I tilt my head, peering at him from under my lashes. He swallows. “Stop,” he says, and my heart drops.

But out of the embarrassment, anger grips me, suddenly pulling me under. My restraint snaps and all I hear is the sound of my blood rushing in my ears—my heart pounding. What exactly is he afraid of? I scoff, dropping my hands. “Let me persuade you,” I offer.

His eyebrows disappear behind his hairline. “How?”

I hold my palms up. “I won’t touch you—just follow me,” I elaborate, nodding my head to his sofa.

Baekhyun looks hesitant, but he does it anyway. We sit down across from each other. “Do I look good in your shirt?” I ask when I notice his eyes trailing over me.

“ _Eun,_ ” he warns, coughing into his hands.

I want to laugh. Why is he acting shy when his cock is out—practically begging for my attention?

“Keep your eyes on me, Bae,” I tell him despite knowing clearly his eyes weren’t going anywhere. I spread my legs, lifting my shirt ever so slightly so he can get a clearer view. I’m not wearing any panties, and he likes it.

Baekhyun stiffens, but I continue. I hold my right palm out, licking a line—coating two fingers. And then I drop them lower, spreading my folds—showing him more of me. “Eun, please—“ He pleads, shaking his head.

I smile at him mercilessly. And then I’m dipping my middle into my core, swirling around. _Showing_ how wet I am. “Don’t you see how wet you make me?” I ask, moaning when I plunge two fingers inside.

Baekhyun breathes, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

I laugh haughtily. “Don’t I know it?”

I spread my legs wider, propping one on a throw pillow. His breathing becomes heavier as mine does too. I thrust in and out—stretching myself and then I use my thumb, pressing against my clit. I moan his name, closing my eyes and pretending that he’s the one doing this to me.

I beg for him to fuck me, and when I open my eyes, his hands are fisted by his sides. His face contorts painfully as he watches me climb to the place I can only wish he’d come with.

“Sometimes,” I rasp, trying to hold out my orgasm. “I masturbate in your bed when you aren’t home.”

Baekhyun’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.

So I continue, “all I really need is a shirt. I like to pretend that my fingers are yours, but you can tell it’s only a fantasy. I bet the real thing is much better.”

“Eun,” he growls.

I ignore him. “I think about our kiss a lot. Your tongue in my mouth—the rough but gentle way you kiss me. Would it feel the same way when you’re eating me out?”

His knuckles are white, but it surprises when he says, “I think about you too. When I’m trying to sleep. And in the shower—” He laughs at that, and I laugh too, feeling the tension disappear. “Sometimes when I’m in the middle of a lecture and I’m closing my eyes briefly, I imagine myself fucking you. I imagine the way your breasts taste. And I _want_ every part of you. I want to suck on your cunt until you’re shaking on top of me.”

I bite down my lips, exhaling shakily. “What else do you want to do to me?” I pump my fingers inside faster—my mind flashing with images of the picture he’s painting.

Baekhyun hums, “I want you to suck me off. Your lips—fuck, do you know what they do to me? When you’re biting them without even realizing it yourself—it makes me crazy. Absolutely insane.” He inhales sharply, his eyes intense with desire. “I _want_ to fuck your mouth. I want to feel your throat tighten around my head— _watch_ you choke on my cock.”

I whimper, clamping my free hand over my mouth as I come from his words. My teeth chatter as I bite down, white light blinding me. The rush of electricity zigzagging throughout my entire body. I push my hips up, chanting his name over and over again.

My mind is still foggy when I open my eyes. I crawl over on all fours, dropping my gaze to his pulsing cock. Baekhyun threads his fingers in my hair, massaging my nape. I pucker my lips, kissing along his shaft. Sliding two hands on his trembling thighs, I kiss downward, licking a line across his balls. I nip on the skin—latching on and sucking. My fingers curl around his length.

I pump slowly, building his anticipation. His breathing picks up and his grip around my neck tightens.

I move back, swallowing nervously. He’s a lot bigger than I’m used to. Pushing away my anxiety, I lean in again, gliding my tongue over his cock. His skin is satin smooth as I kiss around—licking until his cock is coated.

“Fu—“ He hisses when I open my mouth to take in the head of his cock. I moan, loving the way he fills up my entire mouth. I’m so full of him. I can smell him, and I can taste him. _Finally_. I bob my head, curling my tongue and pressing it flat under his shaft. “Eun, fuck. Your mouth—it’s everything I imagined but _better_.”

I hum, letting the sound vibrate and further stimulating him. My cheeks hollow as I suck him harder—the sinful sounds bouncing off of the walls. My spit drips off of my chin, clinging onto his shirt.

I nudge my head back and forth, relaxing my throat and letting him fill up more of me. Baekhyun jerks from the unexpected sensation of my throat clenching around the head of his cock. My eyes water and I gag when his erection grazes the very back of my throat. “You’re so good, baby,” he murmurs, tugging my hair. The pain makes me lightheaded with pleasure.

I’m giddy that I can make him feel this way. With a new sense of urgency, I pull back, dipping my tongue into his slit. “Oh, _Eun._ ”

“Bae,” I call softly, my voice scratchy.

He opens his eyes, peering at me from under his lashes. “Hm?”

“Fuck my mouth,” I tell him, gripping onto his thighs that slip from the clamminess of my palms.

His jaw tightens. “Are you sure?” His eyes flash with concern, but I can see that he wants to. I can see the excitement. The need. The curiosity.

Rolling my eyes playfully, I line my mouth with his length. “I’m a big girl,” I tease, sucking lightly on the engorged head.

“Open,” he tells me, voice deepening to an almost sultry low.

Groaning at how sexy he sounds, I do as he says. He props himself up, securing my head with his hand. My stomach flits at the appearance of a demanding Baekhyun. I tuck my lips under my teeth, nodding for him.

And he doesn’t wait for another second as he pushes inside again. Our groans reverberate off of the walls, and he’s relentless. Fucking into my throat—using me to chase his climax. It’s fucking hot, and I’m wet again.

My eyes blur, but I lock my jaw in place, letting him thrust deeper. I swallow, my throat clenching down on him. And he loves it because he’s jerking his hips deeper. I can tell he’s testing me. He’s testing to see how far I’ll let him go.

So I moan his name, and I squeeze his thighs, coaxing for him to come. And then he does—pulling out roughly and spilling all over me. He coats my face, his hands snapping at his glistening cock. I close my eyes, feeling his seeds cover me. He comes and comes, and it isn’t until at least a minute later that he finishes.

I open my eyes to see him staring at me. He did it on purpose. He’d wanted to see his cum on my face. I tilt my head, waiting for him to say something—to _do_ something.

Baekhyun reaches for me, cupping my face. “Shower?”

I grin, opening my arms. He returns the same grin, telling me to jump. I hop on him, wrapping my arms and legs around him. “Do you have any condoms?” I whisper, nipping his earlobe.

Baekhyun groans, tightening his arms around me. “I’m a medical student, Eun. Of course, I do.”

“Are you gonna leave?” I ask, my voice barely audible above the distant rumbling of the subway.

I don’t think any of us got any sleep. Even now, between my thighs, I’m sore but I’m so, so satisfied. I can’t even remember how many times we had sex. He’d been constantly hard, and I never felt like I was done. So we kept going until we collapsed on top of each other in exhaustion.

I’d just gotten up from passing out to feel Baekhyun sitting up. “I—“

I didn’t want to hear it. My heart pounds in fear that he’ll put distance between us—call this a mistake. We fucked. A lot. And _none_ of it felt like a mistake.

“It’s Saturday morning. You can’t use the excuse of school,” I tell him. Baekhyun turns, his slender waist catching the lights. I can make out the lines of his abs. Beautiful. He looks absolutely, inhumanely bewitching.

His after-sex hair does something to my stomach. Flutters. I curl into a fetal position, my heart racing for no apparent reason. What? No. I attempt to think this out. I attempt to fight my thoughts.

But I can’t. I think I might like him after all. Not because he sexed me up and this may be the brain of post-orgasm Haeeun. But because he cares.

We spent last month practically avoiding each other, but he’d always made sure that I’d eaten or done my homework. Sometimes, he’d take me to school and even though those rides were awkward, I remember the way he’d sneak glances every now and then when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I clamber over to him, tugging his arm. He doesn’t resist, and I’ve already managed to pin him down on his bed. “This—“ I whisper, nuzzling our foreheads. “—is your bed. So, don’t leave.”

Baekhyun chuckles lowly. “Alright, I won’t. You got me.”

“Don’t address it,” I tell him. “Whatever this is—leave it. Let’s just enjoy it a bit more, and then in a couple of months, I’ll be gone.”

His eyes slice into me, a sad smile curling on his lips. “Do you hate my company that much?”

I laugh nervously, pushing at his chest playfully. “No, of course not. I—“

“Then, don’t leave,” he says.

My mouth falls open as I blink rapidly at him, not processing his words. Why would he want me to stay? I’m nothing but a burden. I don’t contribute anything. “But—“

He shakes his head. “Promise me—no matter what happens, you’ll stay. Stay until you’re eighteen. And if you still want to go, then I won’t stop you.”

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

I watch my tears fall onto his face in horror. Baekhyun laughs delightfully, loosening his arm from my grip to wipe them. “Why are you crying?”

My lips tremble. “I don’t know,” I admit, trying to duck away from him. Actually, I did know. He’s the first person who’d wanted me to stay. The first person who’d showed me that I had worth. I’m not just a heap of money—no, I’m a _person_. And I think I may be falling for this man.

“You’re such a strange little girl,” he notes, caressing my cheeks. I lean into his touch, and when our eyes meet, I feel something hit both of us. A revelation, maybe? But it can’t be. No one can love me. I’m sullied. I’m someone a boy would introduce as his friend even if we’ve been screwing for a while now.

I’m not the type people would engage in serious relationships with. And why would he be any different?

For god’s sake, he’s becoming a doctor and me? Frankly, I had no clue what I’d do with my life. I didn’t have any money to go to college. I didn’t have a specific talent. I’m useless—nothing, but a burden.

So why does he make me feel otherwise? Why does he make feel like I can be bigger than I’m meant to?

I drop my head on his chest and tangle our legs. He holds me closer, our heartbeat pressing against each other. His is steady, unlike mine—rabid and somewhat erratic. But if he feels it, he doesn’t speak on it.

“Let’s play a game,” he whispers.

“Sure,” I hum.

“Two truths and a lie.”

“How often should we play?”

He stops to think. “Saturdays,” he finally says.

I nod, understanding his intent. He knows I’m naturally guarded, but he’s showing that he cares enough to want to know who I am. “You first,” I murmur, kissing his chest.

Baekhyun shifts, moving an arm to rest under his head. He stares at the ceiling as he comes up with an answer. After a long beat, he begins, “my mom passed away from cancer when I was twenty-two—“

I suck in a sharp breath. Geez. So he’d wanted to _actually_ play. My heart swells for him, but at the same time, I can't understand him. He’d wanted me to drop my guard that badly?

“I got stood up last week, and I’m into guys.”

I snort. “That’s cheating. You made the last one obvious.”

Baekhyun tsks. “Are you assuming my sexual orientation, missy?”

I jab his stomach. “Shut up, smartass.”

He reaches to kiss my forehead, stomach tensing as he laughs. “Your turn.”

I heave an exasperated sigh—more playful than irritated if you must know. Then, I tell him, “I’ve been an orphan since I was born, I have trust issues, and I’m fifteen.”

He reaches to ruffle my hair, and I squeal, trying to get away. “Now that’s _cheating_. I can’t tell which one’s the lie.”

I grab his arm, biting it playfully. “The last one’s obviously the truth, moron.”

Baekhyun backs away. "How old are you, seriously?”

I trap him by locking our legs. “Seventeen,” I answer, waggling my eyebrows. “Were you hoping to catch a case?”

He looks a bit relieved from this tad of information. “Shut up, Eun. You’re not allowed to make pedo jokes. We’re officially banning it in this household.”

“How old are you?” I ask, scraping my nails lightly on his chest. He shivers from my touch, reaching out to grab my wrist.

“I’m twenty-five.”

I make a face. “Oh, so you’re like old, old?”

But my joke doesn’t go unscathed because now I’m the one pinned down as he tickles me. “Say that again. I _dare_ you.”

“Grandpa!” I shout, giggling and squirming.

Baekhyun’s harsh tickles halt, and he’s rubbing soothing circles on my hips. I stare up at him, watching his eyes glimmer in the light. And then he’s kissing me again.

[2019-2020; present]

“What are your plans today?” Kyungsoo asks me.

I hum, “just chilling in bed all day I think.”

Jongin snorts. “ _Wow_ , there’s a day that exists when you’re not rolling around in the sheets with Mr. Byun?”

I glare at my phone screen. “I’m ending the call.”

“It’s called taking a joke. Besides, tell me I’m wrong,” Jongin taunts.

I toss my phone down on my bed, falling to my back. “We don’t even have sex that much.”

Kyungsoo tsks. “Listen, you both have been screwing since September. It’s almost the end of October.”

“Yeah, but it’s always on his call. I’m just being strung along,” I protest.

“Your own doing. If you get burned, your fault,” Jongin sings exuberantly.

My eyebrows knit together. “Are you—“ I cluck my tongue. “Are you on my side or what, dickwad?”

Kyungsoo sighs like he always does whenever we bring this topic up. He’s genuinely worried about me, but honestly, I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing—sure, I do. I know what my endgame is, and I’m going to see to it. And the fucking—well, I’m just enjoying it for now.

“You don’t go to his place…right?”

I snort. “Do you think I’m an actual fucking moron? _No_. Of course not. We agreed to not sleep at each other’s place. I’ve _never_ stayed over once. Not after the first time—“ I cut into a sheepish laugh, scratching my chin. “Anyway, it’s just sex. It’s honestly not a big deal. It’s not like I’m in love or something. We can stop this anytime and besides, I’m graduating.”

I’m trying to soothe their worries, but it feels more like I’m the one convincing myself. The words don’t feel right in my mouth, and I wonder why.

“That’s if you graduate with your…grades,” Jongin notes.

“I’ll be _fine_. Kyungsoo’s pulling through with the tutoring sesh,” I retort.

Kyungsoo titters, “they’d be more productive if—oh, I don’t know—you actually did some _homework_.”

“I hate people like you, Hae. Just naturally smart without putting any work in while I have to cram to actually learn the material,” Jongin complains.

I laugh haughtily. “Is my baby boy jealous?”

“Not really. I’m fine not getting constantly dicked down by my _teacher_ ,” Jongin deadpans.

My smile falls as I glare off into the distance. “I actually fucking hate you.”

“Your car always smells like sex. It’s called air freshener. And will you stop stealing my spot in the damn library? He has a classroom, for fuck’s sake,” he quips.

Kyungsoo hums, “ah, the day when Jongin, the manwhore, lectures his promising pupil on the art of having sexual intercourse the right way.”

Jongin whines, “you’re biased!”

“You’re right. I think he just loves me more.” Ignoring Jongin’s continuous sulking, I ask, “so what are you guys up to today?”

“There’s a movie coming out today,” Jongin begins. “Kyungsoo and I already agreed to go see it together. Wanna come with us?”

I blink up at the ceiling. “What’s today’s date?”

“October 20th,” Kyungsoo replies.

My hands fall limb.

“Hello?” Jongin asks. “You there?”

I realize that I hadn’t said anything for almost five minutes. “Y-yeah,” I feign. “I’m great. I’m feeling under the weather today, actually. Thanks for the offer. You two have fun.” My stomach squeezes with guilt for lying, but I didn’t want to tell them today was Baekhyun’s mother's death anniversary.

I also didn’t want to admit that I was worried about him. My friends don’t seem to notice as Kyungsoo pegs me on my wellbeing. After answering hundreds of his questions, he finally relents and the two end the call.

I check the time on my phone. What would he be doing right now at eleven? Pushing myself off of my bed, I tread toward my closet, throwing on sweatpants. Then, I jog downstairs, peeking inside Tamara’s wine cooler. I grab her most expensive one. Tucking it under my arm, I grab my keys and head out the door.

I’m not gonna lie. I got lost a few times before I managed to pull up to his place. I don’t think he expected to see me with a bottle of wine and a cheeky grin. He almost slams the door in my face before I stick my foot in.

I wince. Okay, that hurt like a bitch. Baekhyun pulls the door away, bending down to inspect my foot. My heart flutters. Is he actually bipolar or something? “Does it hurt?” He asks, his fingers rubbing my ankle.

I plaster a chirpy smile, pushing myself in his place. “Wow, how long has it been?”

Baekhyun sighs, standing with his hands on hips. “What are you doing here?”

His apartment is nice as I remember it. I’d known Baekhyun had been well off, but I didn’t remember that he was this wealthy. It was kind of a pain proving to the security guards downstairs that he knew me.

“So, the liftman may or may not think that I’m your wife,” I tell him, biting back a laugh.

He is not amused. Not one bit. “Go home—“

I stamp a foot down, jutting my lips out in a pout. “You’re such a meanie. How can you already kick me out? I even brought a housewarming gift.”

“Kang, I’m not in the mood to play with you right now.”

My heart pangs. Right. Of course, what did I expect? He didn’t actually care about me anymore. I mean—I reckon that it’s kind of hard to care for one kid in a sea of hundreds, especially after you’ve forgotten her. Pushing away the sharp tug of pain in my stomach, my smile relents. “Listen, I just wanted to hang with you today. Geez, are you only using my body for sex or what?”

Silence.

Great. He is. But so am I. At least that’s what I’m having a field day trying to convince myself. I stare off into the distance—out his windows. How do I convince him that I’m here for him? Without telling him the whole truth, of course. Like the fact that I know his mother died today.

Laughing awkwardly, I place the wine bottle on his counter. “I’m here to be a friend.”

Baekhyun stares at me with an unreadable expression. Hopefully, he’s realizing that he can’t get rid of me that easily. “I don’t need a friend. I already have friends. And frankly, I’m not interested in befriending a kid.”

Well, he certainly knows how to hit where it hurts. I control my facial expression, blinking away any hurt. “I—“

The doorbell rings at this time, but we don’t address it as we continue to stare at each other. But I’m seconds away from bolting, so I turn to open the door. “Hi,” I greet, seeing a woman in her mid-twenties.

Her hair is strawberry pink, and her lipstick is smudged down her chin. She smiles at me pleasantly. “Hey, sweetie. I left my purse inside there. Can you tell your older brother to fetch it for me?”

My heart falls, crash landing straight into my stomach and gurgling in the hydrochloric acid. Right. So I was just another one of his body counts. I break my gaze, nodding. Then, I turn to go find it for her. “I’ll be right back!” I shout from the hallway.

Baekhyun stares at me, lips parted. I hear his footsteps follow after me. “Kang,” he calls warily.

“What?” I ask, my tone neutral.

“Stop,” he tells me.

I ignore him, eyes catching onto her purse in his bedroom. Or at least I think so. Though it’d be funny if he admitted to having a sparkly hot pink clutch.

Then, I push past him, avoiding his eyes. “Is this yours?” I ask the woman at the door.

She beams. “Thanks, sweetie! Baekhyun, I’ll see you around, okay?” And then the door closes behind her, and she’s gone.

I turn to him, my lips curling bitterly. “So, you guys are on a first-name basis?”

“Are you okay?” He asks, which is unexpected. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Because why does he even care? What does it matter to him?

I should’ve expected this. “Why?”

Baekhyun frowns, tilting his head in confusion. “I thought—“

“That I’d be jealous?” My laugh is harsh, grating to my own ears. “Don’t worry about me. We’re just—“ I cluck my tongue. “Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? But we’re not friends, right, of course. My ba—“

He reaches me, cupping my face. “You’re acting strange.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know me that well, Mr. Byun.”

I’m maintaining a calm pretense, but inside, I want to punch him in the eye. If he’s habitually sleeping with other women then he shouldn’t show me any concern. It’s confusing, and I don’t know what he wants. I get it. Maybe I hadn’t been enough to satisfy him. And we never justified that we couldn’t sleep with other people too.

He doesn’t say anything, so I continue, “she’s clean, right?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Should I be concerned that I’ll wake up with chlamydia tomorrow?” I joke, pushing him off of me.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Smartass.”

I laugh haughtily. “You know me. I’m a wise girl. Up for some wine, Mr. Byun?” I walk over to his kitchen counter, picking up the bottle of wine I brought. “I stole the oldest one from Tamara.”

He attempts to grab my arm. “Why do you keep deflecting?”

“What are you talking about?” I feign.

Baekhyun grounds his jaw. “Stop smiling.”

“It’s not something I can control.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps.

And at this moment, I mentally wanted to jump off of this floor—and along with that came my patience crashing and burning. “Then. What. Do. You. Want?” I shove at his chest, his fingers falling away from me. My arm burns from the residual heat of his touch. “Do you want me to cry?”

“No—“

I snort. “Then do you want me to scream at you? Act like I’m some psychotic girlfriend?”

“Kang—“

“Because I’m not your girlfriend or a friend or a stranger. No, because one day, you’re fucking me—which is fine. I’m not complaining. And then the next, you completely ignore my existence—“ I choke out a harsh laugh. “Completely fine with me. Because I understand _perfectly_ what you want to say. Let’s face it. I’m _nobody._ ”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, so it only confirms everything I’ve said. “I’m—“

My lips curl into a cold smile. “You’re an asshole. I know it. Your neighbor knows it. We both know it. I’m not weak. I don’t need you to hold my hand while we’re engaging in whatever this is— _fucking._ Whatever. I’m cool with it. So, stop looking at me like I’ll break apart in ten seconds because I’m not. Now, are you going to drink this wine with me while I go order some pizza or not?”

He sighs, resigned from my outburst. “Okay. I got it. You can stay.”

“Actually, I didn’t need your permission. I wasn’t planning on leaving either way.” _Because I’m a fucking liar, and I actually do care about you. And because I care enough to keep you company on the day your mother died._ But of course, I don’t tell him that.

“Pepperoni with olives,” I tell the guy taking my order through the phone. “Yup, give me a sec.” I turn to Baekhyun who’s twirling the glass of wine in his hand. “Cash or credit?” I ask him.

“Cash,” he answers.

I finish the order quickly and turn back the TV. “It’ll be like twenty minutes,” I inform.

Baekhyun’s eyes flicker onto my face, and I meet his gaze. “Since when do you like olives?”

I snort. “I hate olives, but you like it so—“ My eyes widen as I clamp my mouth shut. Shit. Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I don’t know why or how Miyoung trusts me. Kyungsoo even tells me that I have the biggest mouth.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “How do you know that?”

“A guess?” I answer vaguely, trying to focus on the movie. I’d texted Jongin earlier asking him what was the best horror movies to marathon. Being the blessed boy he was, he sent me a long list.

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re strange, Kang. Everything you say sounds like a lie.”

I laugh sheepishly. “Speaking of lies, wanna play a game?”

Baekhyun cocks his eyebrows at me. “What game?”

“Two truths and a lie,” I answer, the nostalgia filling my lungs.

He sighs. “Do I have a say?”

“Nope!” I chirp, sidling up to him. He doesn’t argue when I slip under his arm. “I’ll start,” I offer. “I’m actually really good at this game,” I boast, waggling my eyebrows.

He snorts in amusement. “Say that after you actually go.”

“Alright, patience, my child. Okay, here I go,” I clap my hands. “My mother died from cancer when I was sixteen—“

His eyebrows draw together as he stares down at me. I’d actually gone against sharing this bit but if he really didn’t remember me, it shouldn’t have been a problem. _Except_ something about his expression makes me unsettled.

I press on anyway, “I fell in love with a man eight years older than me when I was seventeen, and I hate you.”

Yep, that was my big _fuck you_ to the universe and fate—whatever higher power thought it’d be funny to play this twisted joke on me.

Baekhyun bites back a laugh. “When did you have time to meet someone eight years older than you?”

I smile vaguely, merely shrugging. “Your turn,” I sing, bumping into his chest.

“You’re a pathological liar, aren’t you? You’re terrible at this game.”

“Oh, shut up. Your turn,” I snipe.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes playfully. “Okay, okay. I love cucumbers, I have a medical degree, and I hadn’t fucked anyone but you since January.”

My lips part as I blink at him, stunned. “You—“

“You falling in love with that man was a lie, wasn’t it?” He asks, interrupting me.

I look away, suddenly very interested in the movie that I’ve forgotten about. “How’d you know?”

_Liar, liar, pants on fire. Hanging by a telephone wire._

Baekhyun tsks. “Like I said, you’re terrible at this game.” _Nope. I’m actually so great at it that I’ve managed to fool you._

I hide a sad smile and direct my attention to him again. “The first one,” I prompt. “It’s a lie.”

His eyes widen.

I laugh. “It’s nice to know you’re not screwing anyone else, thanks.”

Baekhyun squints his eyes at me. “How did you figure it out?”

“Because you suck ass,” I mock, sticking my tongue out and wriggling my fingers by my ears. If there’s anything I know about Baekhyun, he’s fatally allergic to cucumber. Naturally, it’s impossible for him to love it. But I won’t be telling him that either.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a pathological liar.

Baekhyun grins. “You didn’t complain when I—“

Someone pounds on the door, and I shoot him a disdained look. “Go pay for the pizza, you pedophile.”

He shoots me a dirty look before getting up. When he comes back, I dig in immediately, ignoring the plate in front of me.

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose in distaste when he wipes off tomato sauce from the corner of my mouth. “For someone who hates olives, you sure eat well.”

The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Because you used to force me to eat them, and I didn’t have the heart to say no to your adorable puppy eyes, jackass.”

He blinks at me, and I choke on my slice. Baekhyun fumbles to get me water as I hound my chest. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I’m a fucking moron.

“Are you okay?” He asks, handing me the glass.

I nod frivolously. “Fine. The pizza’s delicious today, isn’t it? Oh, wow—look, Jason’s hacking away at that poor girl.”

Baekhyun squints his eyes at me. “You’re—“

“Forget what I said,” I blurt.

The silence that stretches is intimidating.

“Kang, do you know me?”

I smile grimly. “Of course I know you. You’re my calculus teacher—an annoying one at that.”

Baekhyun purses his lips, sending me his unconvinced expression. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He sighs, finally dropping it. “You’re fucking impossible.”

“Hey, I thought you making me come three times in a row was impossible, but you’ve somehow managed to do it, you madman.”

“Just eat your pizza, idiot.”


	8. inamarato

**[haeeun]**

Someone kicks my chair, and my head falls with a thump on my desk. I groan, rubbing my forehead. “That wasn’t nice,” I complain, opening my eyes to see everyone staring at me.

Madame Boudier stares down at me, unamused. I turn to see Jongin shoot me an apologetic look as he points to his foot. _Oh_. He was the one who kicked me.

“Good afternoon, mademoiselle. I hope you’re awake enough to join us for class,” she says before walking back to the front of the class.

I flash everyone in my class a sheepish smile, waving at them. Some ignore me, and some wave back.

“What did I miss?” I yell-whisper toward Kyungsoo.

Before Kyungsoo opens his mouth, Madame Boudier clears her throat. I whip my head back to her, ducking to avoid her glare.

“Je suis désolée¹,” I titter, waving my hands.

She shakes her head firmly before going back to speaking. “For Christmas Break, there’ll be an all-round trip to Europe. We’ll be visiting several countries, and I’m very excited about this trip. A lot of you guys know that I’ve been planning this since last year, and the school board finally gave us an okay. Of course, this trip will be optional. We understand if you want to spend the holidays with your families. But—“ She stresses, smiling at all of us. “—remember that this is a once in a lifetime experience. Most of you are seniors this year, and I think it’ll be a great experience for the lot of you.” And then she levels a look at me. “Even to my particularly unmotivated students.”

My eyes dart around the classroom as I pretend that she didn’t just call me out. “Good luck graduating,” Kyungsoo says snidely.

I roll my eyes at him. “ _Tu es un sac a foutre²_.”

Jongin bursts out laughing and almost falls out of his chair. Madame Boudier sighs, pinching her temples. I think I may the reason why she has high blood pressure.

Madame lectures me for ten minutes in rapid-fire French, and honestly, I may be in AP French, but she’s really putting me on a pedestal. By the time she’s done, I can see steam coming from both of her ears. And I think she realizes that I hadn’t been listening either.

The bell rings to signal dismissal, and I smile like the angel I am. “ _À demain³!_ ”

Kyungsoo snorts as he loops his arms around mine. “You’re definitely not her favorite student, Hae.”

Jongin laughs. “Where do you learn all of these insults?”

“I can’t tell you all of my secrets, boy,” I jest, bumping his shoulder.

He squints his eyes. “Now that we’re on the topic of secrets—why exactly are you so secretive?”

I wrinkle my nose. “What are you talking about? I’m not.”

Kyungsoo snipes, “that’s a big load of bullshit. See? You always do that. Pretending you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, still don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I deadpan.

Jongin clucks his tongue. “You’re so much work.”

I waggle my eyebrows. “I’m special that way.”

“If you’re so special, will you finally sleep with me?”

Kyungsoo and I collectively groan. And I’m surprised to say that the next words don’t come out of my mouth. “Hands off, Jongin.”

The three of us turn to see Baekhyun standing in front of his classroom, leaning on the door. I squint my eyes. “I don’t belong to you, Mr. Byun,” I whisper.

Baekhyun snorts, cocking an eyebrow at me as if to say _you think you’re special?_ Well, the joke’s on me. “That’s not what I meant. I’d just rather not wake up with crabs.”

Jongin throws his hands up. “Come on! Does no one get over anything? That was _one_ time.”

Kyungsoo coughs out a laugh. “You infected half of the female population and the principal shut down the school for a week. You tell me, Jong. I still wonder how our classmates still sleep with you despite that catastrophe.”

I laugh incredulously. “I honestly don’t want to know where your dick’s been. Definitely not anywhere near Virgin Mary.”

Baekhyun notes, “you’re not so pure yourself, wise girl.”

Jongin and Kyungsoo wave to me as they head to their next class. I hang behind because well, I kind of missed him.

There. I said it. Sue me.

“Actually, my blood is made from the finest holy water,” I joke.

His lip twitches. “Here we go again with your unfunny jokes.”

I poke his chest. “You’re laughing though, aren’t you?”

Baekhyun darts his eyes from me, feigning, “you also suffer from a mental case of delusion.”

“Well, Dr. Byun. Why don’t you just keep diagnosing me? Tell me, what else do I suffer from? It’s kinda hot when you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

His eyes flash with amusement. “You’re such a teenager.”

“I’m sorry. Was that supposed to be an insult?” I throw him an unimpressed look. “You call me unfunny, but I think we all know you’re the humorless one.”

“I _meant_ that you have the brain capacity of about zero and if you had a third leg, you’d think with that one instead.”

I chuckle. “Okay, that’s actually kinda true.”

He smiles, his eyes and nose crinkling. My heart flops like a fish on land. I definitely did not expect to see him smile at me like that anymore.

The moment is gone when someone walks in his classroom, ramming into my shoulder. I yelp, clutching my left shoulder and turning to the offender.

Baekhyun turns his head as well, glancing at Jisoo who stares both of us down. He opens his mouth to scold her, but I don’t let him. Frankly, I didn’t have time to engage in elementary games with her.

She had nothing on me, and she was already screwing the captain of the football team, so I don’t know what her problem is.

“Watch where you’re going,” I snap.

Jisoo’s lips curl up venomously. “Why don’t you watch where you’re standing. Don’t block the hallway with your fat ass.”

“Jisoo, I will not watch you be disrespectful to another classmate,” Baekhyun warns solemnly.

She juts her lips out in a pout, blinking with feigned innocence. “Careful, Mr. Byun. You shouldn’t play favorites.”

I laugh sardonically. “Hold up—don’t tell me. Actually, do tell me. Are you jealous?”

Jisoo sashays over to me, hands clutched on her hips. She leans in, her nostrils flaring. “Jealous of what? Your Tumblr wannabe lookin’ ass? Here’s a fashion tip. Grow out your bangs, sis. You look like Dora’s rough draft.”

Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut in exasperation as he stands straighter to intercept. “ _Girls_. Break it up,” he says through gritted teeth, sending us both annoyed looks.

My jaw drops. “Did you not hear what she just said to me?”

Jisoo awes, “I’m sorry? Did I hurt your feelings, baby? Don’t take it personally. I just don’t like you.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding something, Jisoo. I’m not the one who spats useless insults because of my own insecurities. Here’s a tip. If Sehun isn’t the one offering you that security, he’s playing your ass.”

She looks like she’s about to bitch slap me across the hallway, but Baekhyun’s called one of our peers to jump between us.

“Both of you _stop_ it right now. I’m not going to repeat myself. You’re both seniors, and you’re graduating in June. No one is going to entertain _little_ girls when you’re out there. Start acting like your age—the both of you.”

My eyes shoot to him. “She fucking started it!”

Jisoo mocks, “at least I’m not the one butthurt.”

“Jisoo, Haeeun. Come on, guys,” Lisa pleads, trying to tear us apart.

Baekhyun looks like he’s about done. “Both of you take this to the principal’s.”

My jaw drops and I feel utterly betrayed. “ _What?”_

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Great, just drag my name in mud, won’t ya?”

“Lisa, can you make sure both of them get there in one piece?” Baekhyun asks, not bothering to glance at me.

Lisa ends up having to drag us both there, and I swear I will kill Byun Baekhyun if it is not the last thing I do—after I skewer Jisoo, of course.

I slam open my locker. “I fucking hate Byun Baekhyun!”

Jongin and Kyungsoo exchange nervous looks. “What happened?”

“He was born! That—itself—is a fucking crime to the world,” I snap, shoving my psychology textbook roughly back.

Jongin hums, “well, technically, it could go both ways. Because you’re both committing a crime right n—“

I turn to shoot him a homicidal glare, and he closes his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll shut up,” he mutters.

Kyungsoo pats him. “What actually happened?”

“I got fucking _detention_. That’s what!” I slam my locker shut again.

Jongin doesn’t look surprised when he asks, “what did you do this time?”

I am offended that they think so little of me. “First of all, why do you automatically assume that it’s my fault?”

Kyungsoo begins to list out things. “You called Madame _sale pute⁴_. You screw a certain someone on a weekly basis. You _accidentally_ drop a lighter on a puddle of alcohol—almost burning down Sehun’s place. Should I go on?”

I scoff. “Okay, to be fair, the last part only happened because Jisoo was pissing me off. And _yes_ , that bitch is the reason why I have a date with detention after school. I just can’t believe Baekhyun told me to _take it to the principal’s_. Like—“

Jongin points out, “well did you expect him to play favorites?”

“Shut up.”

Kyungsoo nudges me. “You know he’s right. Just suck it up. It’s only like twenty minutes. What’s the room number on the slip?”

“M110,” I murmur sulkily.

Jongin laughs, slapping a hand over his thighs. “Ah, the universe loves you.”

I toss my backpack on his desk and plop down on the nearest seat. “For the record, I still hate you.”

Baekhyun throws me a look of indifference. “Take your backpack off,” he grits.

I glance around at the other students quietly surfing their phones and chattering among themselves. “So was this a coincidence? Did you know that I’d be assigned to your room?”

He ignores me, picking up my bag like it was a pair of dirty diapers, and drops it beside my desk. “No and no. For the record, I prefer to spend less time with you.”

I laugh haughtily, and then I lower my voice. “ _Right_ because you’d rather spend more time inside of me. Always the mastermind, aren’t you?”

Baekhyun throws me an _are you kidding?_ look. “Always the lunatic, aren’t you?” He mirrors my sarcasm.

I lean closer, bopping his nose with my finger. “You’re so cute. Like if Satan and Lucifer had a baby, that’d be you.”

He frowns. “They’re the same people.”

“Exactamundo,” I chirp.

“So you’re saying that I’m a byproduct of selfcest?”

“That’s probably the only explanation as to why you’re a genetic defect.”

“And what genetic defects do I have? Do elaborate.”

“In fact, I _will_ tell you. Firstly, your forehead’s too big. And your heart is as black as your soul. And your emotional spectrum is somewhere between lifeless and _I don’t like you but I’ll humor you anyway because even though I’m an asshole, I’m an intelligent one._ And—“

“Are you done?” He asks, crossing his arms.

I purse my lips. “Sure. How much time do I have left again?”

“Ten,” he answers, picking up his red pen and grading our quizzes from today. “Why? What’s keeping you other than watching Gossip Girl and painting your nails?”

“You’re such an asshole. I’m not like—“

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not like the other girls. I mean—it’s not like there’s a whole subreddit for that,” he says, tone dipping in the territory of bored.

I slap my hand on his desk. “Who are you?”

“Byun Baekhyun, your favorite teacher.”

I fail to hold back my laugh because even though he sounds robotic, his class act of douchebag is charming. “I hate you, do you know that?”

Baekhyun lifts his head, eyes twinkling. “I also hate your chatty mouth, but I end up fucking it anyway, don’t I?”

[2017; past]

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Baekhyun whispers in my ear.

I don’t move, curious as to what his next move is.

He presses a kiss against my neck, smiling into it. “I got in trouble during my last clinical. Wanna guess why?”

He laughs to himself, running a hand over my stomach. “Because of _you_. You’re so naughty. How could you wake me up with a blowjob? You’re so merciless, Eun. The doctor I’d been shadowing scolded me for not paying attention. But tell me, how could I pay attention when you’re so goddamn addictive?

How many boys do you pick up on the daily when you’re at school, hm? I can’t even fend them off for you. You make me feel like a schoolboy, wise girl. I thought I left these immature emotions behind me when I graduated college—but here I am, under your mercy.

Your tantalizing dimples and lips are going to be the death of me. I swear. You’ll prevent me from graduating med school, and then I’ll be jobless and it’ll be all your fault. We’ll end up sleeping under the Brooklyn Bridge. And you’ll have no one to blame but your perfect mouth.”

My lips twitch, and he laughs delightfully, kissing me. “Did you do your homework?”

I immediately groan, slapping him away. He doesn’t relent, pulling me into his chest. He’s wearing scrubs. My favorite shade of blue-green. And the reaction from me is the same.

No matter how many times I see him in them, it will never stop turning my insides into mush.

“I bought your favorite cakes—there’s this bakery my friends told me about and I thought you’d really like it. There were so many strawberry treats—“

I capture his lips, winding my arms around his neck. He groans, kissing me back as if he’s been deprived. He tastes like mint, which brings me to the fact that I probably taste like ass.

I pull away, biting my bottom lip. Baekhyun laughs at my expression. “You can’t act shy now after kissing me like that, wise girl.”

I scrunch my nose and he licks it, making me squeal. “What the hell?”

He kisses me again—this time, tilting his head to have more of me. The kiss turns raunchy, and I feel him press his fingers against my heated skin.

I mewl, rubbing myself on him. He groans, swallowing all of my sounds. Baekhyun reaches under, pushing the fabric of my panties aside. I inhale sharply when he plunges his digits inside.

“So wet already?” He teases, scraping his teeth on my neck.

I reach for his wrist, grasping tightly. And I’m fucking his hand—delicious heat crawling up to my brain. Threatening to break my sanity into smithereens. He pushes two additional fingers, and my mind short-circuits.

My actions become frantic as I feel myself reaching the breaking point. My skin is buzzing from his imprints. His lips pressing tiny kisses—nipping at me like he’s unraveling my very existence. His tongue darting out, running along every square inch; covering me with only him. His fingers pumping deep inside me, severing me from reality when he finds that spot. And the dirty words that he _breathes_ into my ears.

And then he’s biting me, murmuring husky encouragements against my skin. I feel myself clench around him. So, so close.

I cry out his name, my toes curling—all my senses dulling as I drown in the tidal waves of pure ecstasy. I shudder, feeling his fingers contour into a come hither motion.

“No, I can’t—“

He shushes me, kissing my mouth. “Come for me.” His demand is gentle, but in no way is my climax gentle. No, it’s destructive—rippling through me like shockwaves.

It’s like an explosion of atomic cells, hitting me with such force that I feel my whole body splintering into broken fragments. My head drops against the crook of his neck limply, and I’m shaking against him, clutching at his shirt—twisting, gritting my teeth to hold it all down.

As if I can mute the feelings he gives me. It’s definitely not just lust. I’m just realizing it now when I come down from my hysteria.

He’s more than just my friend. More than just a parent. No, he’s someone I want to come home to every day because he is _my home_. He’s someone I want to spill all of my secrets and cry to. He’s someone I want not only inside of me—but I want him everywhere. To lay on him, to laugh with him, to share these small vulnerable moments. The sliver of truths that we exchange when we play our little games—and _more_ mornings like these.

And I don’t want to leave. No, I want to stay forever. I don’t care if he hides me from his real life. I don’t care if his friends don’t know I exist. I’ll stay hidden in his pocket. I’ll be his little doll.

I’m in love with Byun Baekhyun, and this, _alone_ , shatters every line, every curve of the circle I’ve built to protect myself. Years of hard work. Gone. Just like that.

All for this man who’s kind of overbearing and nags way too much for his own good. He’s the biggest worrywart I know, but fucking hell, he _cares_. And that difference is what alleviates my fears.

I fumble into his pants, pulling loose his drawstrings. Baekhyun shakes his head, eyes pained. “I don’t have time, baby.”

My nerves trickle down my throat, and I cup his face. “I feel bad. You helped me orgasm twice,” I murmur.

The corner of his lips upturn and I reach up to press a kiss to them. He laughs softly, tenderly running his hands down my bare legs. “Don’t feel bad. I’ll be back late noon. We can do whatever you want then, okay? Make sure you pay attention at school and don’t piss off your teachers. If I get called down to the office one more time, no more—“

“Blah, blah, blah.”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “Okay, now let me go so I can head to the hospital.”

I shake my head mischievously.

“Please?”

I shake my head again, and he brings his hands up to tickle my sides. I flail backward, giggling incessantly when he finally manages to duck away from me.

Baekhyun turns to leave, and I prop myself up at the end of his bed, staring at him from behind. “Bae?”

He turns halfway, head tilting. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

When I head to the kitchen after showering, I immediately grin when I see a bag filled with cute to-go cakes. I finger through them, picking out a slice of cream cake with strawberries.

I go to take a bite, stopping slightly when I see the branding on the cake.

_JXS_

My heart lurches, and a wave of nausea dance on my skin like hot flashes. I hunch over, the dry heaves wrack my body until I’m throwing up on the floor. I stumble upright, sweeping the cakes into the trashcan. Then, I slide down onto my knees, trembling ruthlessly. Dropping my face onto my crossed arms, I stifle a sob.

My worst nightmare hadn’t gone away, and I’m starting to think that even my new home wouldn’t welcome the ghost of my past.

[2019-2020; present]

“Tamara,” I call through the line.

She hums, “what’s up, honey?”

“I’m—er, there’s this trip during Christmas.”

“Oh, I actually heard about that from my boyfriend. He’s funding your trip and asked me to chip in as well. I think it’d be fun if you went.”

I frown. “You don’t want to spend the holidays with me?”

Tamara titters, “why would you want to spend Christmas with me?” _Because I want your approval._

An empty laugh falls from me. It’s so broken that I can see the slivers of each syllable. “I just thought—never mind. Forget it. How are you doing? Did you have fun over Thanksgiving?”

She coos and tells me all about her romantic dinner with her boyfriend. I try to shove down the bitterness as far as I can, plastering on a smile. And I’m an idiot. It’s not like she can see me.

I wasn’t going to tell her that I spent Thanksgiving alone, breaking into her wine collection. Kyungsoo and Jongin had dinner with their families, and Baekhyun had been busy too. I didn’t want to bother Milan because I knew she also had a big family.

This was the thing I feared. Having friends only to be reminded that I’ll never truly belong. Because I don’t have a background. My birth mother abandoned me the minute I was born. I’d heard the nuns talk amongst each other, selling their sympathies for me when they found me on the doorsteps of the foster home.

Almost freezing to death in the snow. And maybe that was why I hated the snow so much. The cold that reminded me of the dark sky I’d often looked up to. When I screamed from the top of my lungs only be disregarded. Only to be abandoned again. Over and over.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” Her voice breaks me away from my festive thoughts. My stomach churns, and I feel sick. Did she really think that I needed something from simply wanting to talk to her? For god’s sake.

“No, but I’ll be going to the doctor soon for birth control. I wanted to let you know just so you don’t freak out when the insurance sends you an inquiry.”

“Okay.”

And that’s all it is. No further interrogations. She wasn’t interested in my life as long as I stayed out of hers. I’m an afterthought, and things were never going to change.

Someone bursts into my room with little to no regard for noise level. I’m attacked by blinding lights as the person flickers them on. “Get your ass up! Why are you _still_ sleeping?” I think it’s Kyungsoo, and why does he sound so panicked?

I push myself out of bed groggily. “Where’s Jong?”

“In our cab! You said you’d be up. 3 sharp?” He stands across from me, hands on his hips and blowing his bangs away from his face with exasperation.

I feel just tad bit bad. “Rough morning?”

The glare he sends me gets my ass packing off of my bed and stumbling into my bathroom to get ready. “Did you pack?” He asks, voice distant as if he’s moving around my room, inspecting my mess.

“Yessiree!”

He snorts. “Yeah, I can see that. You did a crap job too.”

I frown, pulling my toothbrush out. “Thanks for the moral support, asshole. And I reckon Kim Jongin didn’t do any better than me.”

Kyungsoo gargles, “you wouldn’t even imagine. He’s an absolute mess. I head to his house, and he’s still snoring his head off. I had to shake him awake for a solid ten minutes, and to make matters worse, he told me he forgot to pack!”

I laugh, spitting out toothpaste. “And?”

“And then I had to scramble and the both of us shoved as many clothes in his suitcase as we humanly could. Fucking idiot—remind me to bury myself when you both force me to go on trips with y’all.”

In a couple of minutes, I’m hauling my bags to our cab parked outside my curb, and Kyungsoo is tailing behind, color finally returning to his face.

We’re sped off in the dusty night sky. Jongin snores away on my shoulder, and I can feel myself losing my hearing as a result. Kyungsoo steals the front seat next to the driver because he doesn’t want to deal with either of us after the hectic morning. I mostly agree with him minus the part where he claims that I’m irresponsible because we both know Kim Jongin is the epitome of irresponsibility.

Surprisingly, we’re on time. The airport is packed with holiday travelers. A lot of families. Kids running between legs and weaving through the queues.

We follow our other classmates, huddling around Madame Boudier and the other teachers—Señora Diaz, the petite Spanish teacher from next door that Jongin claims is the only teacher he would ever smash, and Mr. Müller, the funny German teacher across the hall who likes to recount the times he almost got into car wrecks driving two hundred miles per hour on the autobahn.

I squint my eyes when I hear my female peers making a racket for no apparent reason. And then I see _him_.

If it isn’t the one and only Byun Baekhyun, I’ll be damned. He’s bundled in a thick coat over a sweatshirt and a turtleneck, his scarf piling high. He’s fashionably extraordinary and then there’s me—minutes away from being fashionable late.

Has he come to also ruin my vacation? I’m sure I’ll be thoroughly getting wind of that in this next week or so. Someone bury me right now.

But maybe I was being dramatic. Maybe I was still salty about him being an asshole to me on a daily basis. Like when he gave me detention for showing up to his class two minutes late. Yes, two minutes. He takes the concept of pettiness and turns up to the max.

And then there was the time when he punished me for Jisoo’s antics. So what if I threw a pack of cigarettes at her face and told her to calm her nonexistent titties down—she’d deserved it when she went off on me for not contributing to our group project.

I wasn’t the one who kept shutting down all input and not offering any constructive criticism.

My case has been made, and I will not rest until the day comes when I witness Baekhyun burning in a heap of inferno flames.

Approximately two hours later, all of us are packing into the aircraft. Jongin, Kyungsoo, and I steal the middle seats, which means there’s an extra seat. Like hell, I will let anyone sit there. Frankly, other than my two friends and Milan, I really didn’t fancy anyone else.

There’s a hush of voices as the rest of my peers find their seats. I’m not paying much attention to anything else other than the overly excited voice of Kim Jongin.

“What’s the first thing you wanna do when we land in Paris?” He asks, bouncing in his seat.

Kyungsoo shoots him a look, silently telling him to chill the fuck out. And then he hums happily, “I want to try authentic French pastries and have the local experience. None of that touristy crap.”

Jongin boos, “ew, you sound like a white girl. And not the good kind. Like a mix of Pinterest and VSCO.”

Kyungsoo retorts nonchalantly, “let me guess. You want to scour the streets and find anyone with a pretty face and two functioning legs and screw? Forgive me for not engaging in the art of being a carnal teenage boy who has an unhealthy appetite for STDs and baby mamas.”

I snicker. “I’d give you some ice, but it’s not free of charge.”

Jongin makes a face. “But—“

Kyungsoo mercilessly continues, “no, Jong. That sounds stupid. We’re literally going to get our asses kicked back home if not to Pluto.”

“You didn’t even hear what I had to say!”

I stifle a laugh at their continued bantering, and my eyes fall to Baekhyun who stands above me, staring down expectantly.

I cock my eyebrows. “Well looky here. What do you know?”

Baekhyun levels me his usual look of impenetrable indifference. “Move your bag.”

“Beg for it,” I tell him with a haughty grin.

“I think you’re misunderstanding something, Kang. Byun Baekhyun doesn’t beg for anything. Move your fucking bag,” he seethes.

I tsk. “I think you’re misunderstanding something, Mr. Byun. I’m not the one at the mercy of a _little girl_.”

He presses his lips together in a thin line. “Please.”

I turn my ears, miming. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you. What was that?”

“Okay, fuck you,” he spats, turning to leave, but I grab his arm.

Moving my bag in its rightful spot, I tug him down and he falls with a soft thud—his familiar sweet, spicy smell tingling my senses.

I let go, beaming at him. “I was just messing with ya, but I bet Jisoo would love your company. She thinks she’s your favorite, and I’m starting to think that’s a fact.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes with a slight head tilt. “For the record, I don’t have favorites.”

I hum, “oh sure, I believe you.”

Kyungsoo glances between the two of us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two are flirting.”

Jongin wiggles his index finger. “No bueno, Señor Byun.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes playfully. “Tell your friends they’re also delusional.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth upturns in mischief. “Tell your manwhore of a boyfriend that your friends can hear all the bullshit he’s spatting.”

I push both of them away from each other. “First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. And second of all, why don’t you both tell each other that yourselves?”

Baekhyun leans back into his seat and we all sit in silence when the plane begins to take off. I tense in my seat, and he turns to me, cocking an eyebrow. I mouth a disdained _what?_

He doesn’t say anything as he takes my left hand, interlacing our fingers. I open my mouth to protest, but there’s _nothing_ to say. I’m afraid if I said something, he’d hear my thrumming pulse. Even if that’s practically impossible, I will not take any chances.

I attempt to tug my hand free, but his grip is steel. “I don’t need your pity,” I snipe when he cockily smiles at me.

Baekhyun snorts. “Your welcome. Just so you know, time with my hand is expensive.”

“I didn’t ask!”

“You didn’t need to. I can see your pupils shaking from all the way over here.”

My lips part. “I am not!”

“Right,” he sings. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kang.”

At this time, I feel Kyungsoo’s head bob on my shoulders. I smile adoringly, fixing his head. Jongin slumps onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Their faces are so close that if one of them turned an inch, they’d probably lip lock.

I see Baekhyun watching me with a curious look. “You like them,” I note.

He feigns, “what are you talking about?”

“You actually like my friends.”

“Nope, still have no idea what the hell you’re saying.”

I chuckle, squeezing his hand. “Okay, you tsundere. Keep denying it.”

Baekhyun’s eyes twinkle in the low light. “They’re fun to be around. I can see why you’re all close-knitted.”

“I’d welcome you to the club if you weren’t such an uptight prick about befriending _kids,”_ I playfully mock.

The space between us shrinks. “I don’t know. A certain brat may have changed my mind.”

I gasp, clutching my chest. “ _No_. Are you implying that we’re friends?”

He laughs. “Does that bother you, Kang?”

I kiss his cheek, leaving an obnoxious wet smack. “Exchanging pleasantries by day, rolling in the sheets by night. I can get with that.”

He makes a face, rubbing at his cheek as if to erase the signs of my germs, but the mirth is unmistakable in his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Let’s play a game,” I announce, moving away from him. Partly because I needed to calm my raging heart attack down.

Baekhyun sighs. “Not like I can argue with you, can I?”

“You know me so well, Bae,” I implore. Clapping my hands, I begin, “two truths and a lie. You first."

He grows silent, the humming of the plane engine filling in the spaces. Then, he says, “you’re my favorite student, you hung out with me on the day my mom died, and I hate you.”

I flash him my dimples. “ _Aw_ ,” I coo, reaching out to squeeze his cheeks. “I knew you would cave. Just some sprinkles here and there and you’re a total puppy.”

Baekhyun throws me a disgusted look, but I ignore him.

“I lost my virginity when I was fourteen, I got my heart broken, and—“ I reach out to squeeze his nose. “—I hate you.”

He frowns. “Same guy?”

I cluck my tongue. “How’d you know?”

“Call it intuition. Forget about him. He’s probably drowning in his own regrets right now,” Baekhyun says without much thought.

I bite back a sad smile. “What if it just means I’m not worth much?”

He levels me a look. The infamous Byun Baekhyun no BS eyes. “Listen, Kang, you’re always worth so much more than you think you deserve. Don’t let anyone determine your worth. It’s your life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) je suis désolée - i'm sorry
> 
> (2) tu es un sac a foutre - you're a bag of sperm
> 
> (3) à demain - see you tomorrow
> 
> (4) sale pute - dirty bitch of shit


	9. dulcet

**[haeeun]**

“What are you doing?” I ask, jerking back when he pulls the armrest up.

Baekhyun snorts. “You’re acting as if I attacked you.”

My shoulders relax. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“ I bite back a gasp when he pulls me close to him. “ _Why?_ ” I blurt.

He sends me an incredulous look. “Are you okay?”

My stomach flutters. Baekhyun isn’t an affectionate person. When we had sex, it was just that. We didn’t talk about it after. It’s not like it was the best topic to bring up at the dinner table.

He never fucked me at his place or my place. And I think he purposely made it so because he didn’t want either of us to stay around longer than we needed to.

I could probably list the public places we’ve messed around off the top of my head, and surprisingly, he was careful about it.

He always knew the exact time to do it, and I didn’t have a problem, trusting him. We hadn’t got caught yet. Of course, I’d been hesitant a few times, but Byun Baekhyun is a master manipulator. That mouth of his should be illegal.

Jongin and Kyungsoo usually joke about it, but I don’t think Baekhyun is aware that they know what’s going on.

Long story short, Baekhyun never shows any affection. He doesn’t do lovey-dovey romance. Holding hands? Gentle kisses? No and no. He’s not someone you take home to meet your parents.

Okay. Bad example. We both had serious mommy issues. My real parents fucked off the moment I was born. As for Baekhyun, I just remember him not talking about his dad much, but I knew that he’d loved his mom.

“I’m fine.” The words feel forced.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at me. “Let me use your shoulder for a bit. I didn't get much sleep last night,” he tells me nonetheless.

I nod stiffly. “Sure.”

He doesn’t think twice and his head falls on the crook of my shoulder. He fits perfectly. Of course, he does. My heart squeezes inside of my chest as the memories of him flood me. And it hurts. All the uncovered memories that I’d shoved down so deeply that I’d thought it wasn’t possible for them to see the light of the day.

Within a few minutes, his eyes are closed and his breathing has slowed. Without thinking, my fingertips brush against his lips. I exhale shakily.

Why was I feeling so conflicted? I didn’t understand where these feelings were coming from. I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my head back.

What if they were never gone in the first place?

[2017; past]

I feel hands dropped around my hips, and I turn around, eyes wide. “Who—“

Baekhyun grins, capturing my lips before I’m able to gauge who he is. But he doesn’t need to give me time, his kiss is familiar and it’d been seared into my mind from the very first time. I could never forget how he tastes or the perfect pressure of his lips.

Then, I pull back, pushing him off. “I have to watch the stove, dumbass.” I turn to hide my blushing cheeks.

“You didn’t have to cook. Today’s my day,” he tells me, moving to stand away. My heart falls at the sudden distance.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry about this morning. It was probably the orgasm talking.”

Baekhyun is silent. He lets me cook in silence, and when I’m done with the stir fry, I turn off the gas. He smiles tightly, dropping a kiss to my forehead before he turns to head into the bedroom to get a change of clothes.

I drop to the ground shakily, running a hand through my face. I’d been so anxious all day. When I told him that I’d loved him, he only stared at me, and I had to tell him to go to work. Baekhyun _didn’t_ say anything.

And I knew that I made a grave mistake. We didn’t talk about what we were. I understand that he wants to skim the surface with me. After all, he’d known practically nothing about me. Why would he give his heart to a girl he found half-dead in the middle of the night?

At this time, someone pounds on his door. I jump at the sound banging, but I quickly shuffle to the door, pulling it open.

A girl, probably a year or two older than me, squints her eyes at me. “Who are you?” And the way she asks me makes me feel like I’m a prostitute. “Oppa! When did you get a housekeeper?”

My jaw drops, and she doesn’t wait for me to speak and pushes right past me. I realize she’s donned in very expensive accessories from head to toe.

She sighs, giving me a once over. “You’re in high school right?”

I nod, unsure of what she was asking for.

“I’m a senior at Lincoln,” she tells me.

I wrack my brain, remembering Lincoln was Heritage’s rivaling school. I didn’t really care about the beef between the two. I’d just started two or three months ago, and school spirit hadn’t been on the top of my priority list.

“I’m a sophomore at Heritage.”

Her mouth opens in an ‘o.’ “You talk?”

I snort. “ _Right_ because housekeepers have the inability to talk.”

She laughs. “I like you. I hope Oppa keeps you.”

I’m not a toy, but okay, whatever helps her sleep at night. And then it hits me. Who is this girl? She’d been calling Baekhyun _Oppa_ for the past few minutes, which means she could be a lover.

I frown, fear racing through me. Was I another one of his high school girl fantasies? I suddenly felt sick.

“Joori, what the hell are you doing here?” Baekhyun’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts, and I turn to watch their exchange.

Joori blinks at him. “Talking to your housekeeper. She’s really cool.”

Baekhyun groans. “Joo, she’s not my housekeeper.”

I see a flash of anger in her eyes. “Then who is she? Are you _fucking_ her?”

I had a feeling that I should leave because the probability of them including me in their conversation had been slim to none. So, I offer Baekhyun a tight smile before opening his door and heading out. I didn’t know whether to feel hurt or flabbergasted. It wasn’t like we talked about boundaries.

Hell, we’d been sleeping together for almost two weeks now, and then I said I loved him like the dumbass I was. Anyone could see that a relationship wasn’t possible. As fas as I knew, he didn’t feel the same way.

And I couldn’t even be mad at him for it. What was there to be mad about? He’d given me shelter and I finally knew when my next meal would be.

I had nothing to complain about. My feelings didn’t matter. I ambled along the sidewalk until I reached a play structure. The sun had set an hour ago, and I was standing under a dimly lit street lamp.

I’m shaking and I could feel the air around me become thinner and thinner. Crouching down, I attempt to hide from the world, but it’s impossible. I could feel the weight of the world crushing me. I could feel it reminding me that I had _no one_. It didn’t matter how many homes I find because in the end, I would have to pick up and leave again.

What am I doing? I’m sleeping with a man eight years older than me. And for what? Who am I kidding? I’d recklessly called him my home but he has no attachment to me. He didn’t have to be responsible for me, and I honestly didn’t know why he kept me around.

Maybe because I was someone he could fuck and throw away easily? I wasn’t a complication. No, I began my life with my things in a Hefty bag, and I could just pack up any time it was convenient for my guardian. But the more I ran away, the more I didn’t see the point in wandering anymore. I just wanted a final destination.

“ _Breathe_.”

My throat feels clogged and everything is too fuzzy. The voice continues to tell me to repeat the action over and over again. I feel a strong arm tighten over me. Gasping, I collapse into him and he squeezes me tighter, pulling me out of the hazy world.

I blink, letting the familiar smell of cinnamon wash over me. “Baekhyun?” I ask, voice scratchy. “Why are you here?”

Baekhyun laughs incredulously, pulling back. “Because I’m worried about you. You just had a panic attack, Eun. Are you okay?”

“I—“ I feel tears fall without my permission. I roughly wipe them away, hardening my expression. “I’m okay. You can let me go now.”

He stares at me unconvincingly. “I think I’m going to hold on to you just in case.”

I laugh quietly. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

Baekhyun had been kneeling on the sidewalk with his arms still tight around me waist. I slip my arms from my side, wrapping them around his neck. He smiles at me warmly. “You’re comfortable.”

“ _Okay,_ sure.”

He shakes his head as if I’ve hurt him. Then, his expression becomes serious again. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

I stiffen. Plastering a smile, I feign, “there’s a reason why they’re just thoughts.”

Baekhyun doesn’t smile. “But they’re also the reason you almost passed out.”

“Why do you care? I’m just this brat you took in from the streets.”

He drops his arms from my waist, and I immediately regret my words. I let my arms fall, and I back away from him. “I feel responsible for you. At first, I took you in because you were around my sister’s age, and I’d hoped someone would do the same if they found Joori like that.”

_Joori._ So that girl earlier had been his sister. I didn’t have the luxury to be jealous. He wasn’t mine. He didn’t say anything when I told him I loved him. I’m the biggest idiot known to man.

“So I’m a charity case—cool,” I murmur, eyes dropping to the cracks on the sidewalk.

He sighs. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Listen, Eun. I’d wanted to pass the responsibility to someone else in the beginning. I was going to send you to the police for them to help you, but you looked so afraid and you were planning to bolt. I had a feeling that my good intentions weren’t exactly _good_ for you. So I let you stay, knowing you’d leave on your own eventually.” Baekhyun looks guilty when he confesses this, but he’d been right. I was planning to leave in the beginning, and hearing this, I suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore.

“I’ll leave soon. Don’t worry about it,” I mutter, feeling numbness spread in my chest.

“You’re not going anywhere. I thought I already made you promise me you’d stay,” he says firmly.

I don’t say anything because what the hell? I had no idea what his intentions were.

Baekhyun moves closer, cupping my face. “Come on, wise girl. Look at me.”

It takes me a strenuous amount of effort to do it. Not because I physically couldn’t, but my energy had been zapped by the panic attack and I was too afraid to hear what he had to say.

He leans in until our forehead touches. Baekhyun moves his hand, grasping the back of my nape. He thumbs it gently, sending shivers down my spine. “I don’t know how I feel about you, but it sure as hell isn’t indifference. I—“ He sucks in a nervous breath. “I don’t know how to define my feelings, but I do know that I care about you. I do know that I want to return home to eat your cooking even though it’s—“ He jokingly winces, which makes me roll my eyes. Laughing cutely, he continues, “I do know that I want to wake up with your arms around me. And I’m not a great person, I’m completely aware—but it’d be great if you could look past it and stay with me.”

My lip twitches, and it makes his smile grow bigger. “You’re cheesy, old man.”

Baekhyun kisses the corner of my lips and moves to pull both of us off of the ground. “I sure hope you aren’t lactose intolerant then.”

I pretend to vomit and move away from him, but eventually, I find my way back to his side and we walk home hand-in-hand.

Joori comes back the next day because apparently, I’m more interesting than a zoo animal. She stares at me a lot, and she’s fascinated by the idea of being an orphan. I try not to find it too insensitive because she’d probably gotten everything she’d wanted, growing up.

It’s not like I can expect her to know how it feels. “Baekhyun’s not…here,” I drawl, glancing up at her from my homework.

Joori hums, “I know. Oppa told me if I came again, he’d kick me out. He doesn’t want Dad to know where he lives, which is ironic because Dad’s paying for his living expenses.”

I frown, not quite sure what to make with this information. “So why are you here?”

She claps. “I want to be your friend.”

“I don’t make friends,” I answer curtly.

“Well, you haven’t met Byun Joori yet and it shows,” she sings.

I blink. “Well, yeah. I don’t really know you.”

Joori hangs her head back, laughing haughtily. “We’re going to be new BFFs. Mark my words, erm—what was your name again?”

“Haeeun,” I deadpan.

She smiles sheepishly. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Right…”

Joori is stubborn. Despite Baekhyun attempting to kick her out on numerous occasions, she refuses and stays over for weeks on end. I don’t really mind because honestly, it wasn’t like I had a choice.

I find out that she’s an extremely touchy girl because I can’t sleep without her limbs dangling all over me. Baekhyun is forced to retreat to the sofa again.

One night, I’m finally fed up with falling off of the bed for the sixth time. I fling the covers off of me and sit up, staring at the sleeping girl. She doesn’t seem to notice.

If there’s another thing I learned about her, the girl does not wake up—not even if the world is ending around her.

I pad outside to see Baekhyun curled up on the couch. Sleepily, I nudge him to scoot and he opens one eye to peer at me. “I can’t sleep with her,” I whisper, turning my head slightly to signal toward his room.

He moves back, letting me slip into the little space. Our bodies are attuned to one another by now, so it doesn’t take much for him to habitually spoon me. I sigh in relief and fall back into dreamland.

Joori clears her throat above us. How did I know? Well, she tends to be pretty dramatic sometimes. “Oh, lovebirds. I’m hungry," she says this in a sing-song voice.

Baekhyun doesn’t bat an eye. “Go home then.”

She snorts. “No thank you.”

“Miran’s probably looking for you,” he drones.

I groan and turn, burrowing my face into his chest to drown out the light and noise. He slips a finger under my shirt, thumbing my skin.

Joori plops down on top of us, and I am no longer drowsy. And neither is Baekhyun when he begins scolding her. But she’s a lot like me in the way she doesn’t seem to listen to any of it as he begins rambling.

I pat his chest, attempting to calm him down, and to my surprise, he takes a deep breath and watches his sister with a glare.

She blinks between us in shock and awe. “What—how?” Joori jumps off of us, and I sit up, lazily stretching my sore limbs.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

Joori shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Baekhyun, please keep her.”

Baekhyun retorts, “Oppa.”

She sticks her tongue out. “Eun doesn’t call you that.”

He doesn’t seem to care when he slips past me to wrestle his sister. “She’s special. I don’t care what she calls me,” he says past the teenage shrieking.

My heart does an unexpected backflip as I rub my eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep in them. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Both of them moan in disdain, and both also get nasty looks from me. “Let’s have brunch out!” Joori offers, avoiding my eyes.

Baekhyun nods, agreeing. “There’s a popular café downtown that makes amazing waffles.”

I deadpan, “you can just tell me that my cooking’s shit.”

Joori hums, “I thought we already established that.”

Baekhyun throws his arms around me, grinning at the two of us. My heart feels warm inside of my chest. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but was this what people meant when they used the word _family_?

“Quit hugging her,” Baekhyun complains when we’re watching one of Joori’s chick flicks.

Joori ignores him, tightening her arm around me. I cough, “you’re suffocating me, Joo.” She laughs sheepishly and loosens me from her death grip.

“I like her. She’s soft,” Joori argues.

I titter, “thanks?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “First, you disturb my routine, and now you’re stealing Eun? No fucking way, Joo. Hands off or you’re out.”

Joori quips, “nice try, Oppa. You didn’t even kick me out when I almost burned the place down with Eun the other day. Then again, you’re whipped for her.”

I laugh as Baekhyun glares at both of us—me, especially. “What?” I ask innocently.

“I am not whipped,” he grumbles.

Joori hums, “and I’m not eighteen. It’s literally a fact at this point.” She points at him, wiggling her fingers. “Listen, Oppa. When have you asked me what I wanted for dinner? It’s always what Eun wants.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth probably to say _go home_ , but she cuts him off.

“Not that I’m complaining. She has a fancy palette for a stray—“

“Did you just call me a stray?” I narrow my eyes at her in offense.

Joori kisses my cheek. “I’m just messing with you, baby. Anyway, long story short: you can’t say no to her, which means she has the pants. Period.”

I beam. It’s not exactly a bad thing, and I found it kind of funny that Joori’s observation is…true.

“Whatever,” He manages. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

When he’s gone, Joori squints her eyes at me. “So—like what are you guys?” She asks.

But she’s in no luck because I, myself, don’t know the answer. “He’s my caretaker,” I respond stoically. But I quickly realize that it doesn’t sound right.

She throws me an unconvinced look. Well, that makes two of us. “He looks at you differently,” she begins. “Oppa’s only been in two serious relationships, but honestly, I’ve never seen him so drawn to someone as he is with you.”

I feel something stir in my stomach. Hope? I attempt to snuff it because I can’t hold him responsible for my feelings. He doesn’t deserve that. “I don’t think that’s the case. He told me I remind him of you. He—erm—is naturally acting like an older brother.”

Joori chuckles. “Honey, I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but it’s not working on yourself either. I’m just gonna put that out there.”

I nudge her playfully. She snuggles on my shoulder again. “I don’t know what we are. It’s a bit vague, but I’m okay. Honestly. He’s given me a lot to be thankful for.”

“Sure, sure,” she drawls sarcastically.

I laugh softly. “I met you, didn’t I?”

Joori cheers, “ah-hah! I told you we’d be best friends!”

“Nope, you’re just getting ahead of yourself there.”

Joori falls asleep during the last bit of the movie, and I stand to tuck her in under the blanket. I’d been planning to sleep out here with her, but she looks like she’d be more comfortable alone. It was really cramped when I slept out here with Baekhyun the other night.

I quietly pad into his room and slip in beside him. He shifts, and I turn on my back, staring at the wall.

I think about what Joori said. I couldn’t see the special treatment. He’d always treated me like this. He nags all the time, but he’s affectionate. I simply dismissed his doting personality as him _caring_.

It terrifies me that there’d be more than that. Of course, I’m in love with him, but the possibility of him reciprocating. It was already slim to none, and on top of that, I can’t deal with the fallback.

What if things don’t work out? I’d have to leave again, and I didn’t want our relationship to change by any means. I liked my life currently.

Yet as I try to convince myself that this was all I wanted, I still feel the tiny flicker of hope dancing in my chest. And no matter how much I tried to snuff it, it wouldn’t go away.

Sighing, I bury my face in my hands. And then, I feel his arms slip over my waist, pulling me into him. I gasp.

“Hey,” he whispers, his breath grazing my ear.

A shiver runs down my spine and I attempt to calm myself, afraid that he’ll hear how fast my heart’s beating. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He chuckles. “No, I wasn’t really asleep. Just doing some thinking.”

“Oh.”

There’s only silence after that, and because his arms felt so secure and he’d been so warm, sleep had been pulling me. I thought he’d fallen asleep too but then he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

My mind is foggy from sleep, but I manage, “for what?”

He kisses the back of my neck. “For not being able to give you more.”

My heart pangs. I was right. No matter how much I’d hoped for our relationship to become serious, he didn’t want it. I try to tell myself it was fine. I’d liked life the way it’d been anyway, but who am I kidding? My heart is broken.

I don’t say anything, and he takes it as a cue to not say anything either. And so, for the first time that night, sleep didn't come easy.

  
  


[2019-2020; present]

“Good morning,” Kyungsoo tells me the minute I rub my eyes. My head still feels heavy from drowsiness, but I push through the fog until I can make out the blurry shapes of my two friends.

“Hey,” I murmur.

Jongin squints his eyes at me. “You okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

Kyungsoo fixes my hair, and he elaborates, “you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

I stare at him, blinking. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Jongin doesn’t give. Instead, he ruffles my hair. “You don’t have to hide anything from us. We’re here for you. You can always talk about—“

I shake my head, plastering a smile. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Kyungsoo and Jongin don’t look convinced, but they don’t pry any longer. Jongin clears his throat, causing the two of us to look toward him. “I know you two think I’m a meathead—“

Kyungsoo gasps. “So he knows.”

I laugh. “Actually, you’re practically a caveman.”

Jongin rolls his eyes playfully. “Can I continue—or?” Kyungsoo and I do a zipping motion on our lips. “I wanted this trip to be about us. It rubbed me the wrong way when you both assumed that I’d only had the goal of screwing my way through Europe—“

Kyungsoo hums, “to be fair—“

Jongin shoots him a glare and he shuts up. “Anyway, as I was saying, in five or six months, it’ll be hard for all of us to keep in touch. Life gets in the way. You’re both incredibly smart—well, never mind, Hae’s not really—“

I reach out to smack his thigh, and he laughs.

“ _Kidding!_ Kyung’s probably going to an Ivy League, and Hae, I don’t know your future plans, but with the way things are going, you’re going to forget about the both of us.”

I swallow, a pang of guilt hitting me in the chest. “Jong, you know that’s not—“

Kyungsoo levels a look at me. “Really?”

My throat clogs. He’s right. I didn’t know how my future was going to go. I didn’t know what I was going to do after graduation and honestly, as bad as it sounds, I didn’t have any plans to retain our bond. I couldn’t put them above everything. After all, it’s only been—what—four or five months since we met.

Sadness flashes over Jongin’s eyes, but he continues, “anyway, I promise you both. No girls. It’s just gonna be the three of us on our last hurrah trip.”

Kyungsoo and I smile at him. “You’re such a softie inside. Who knew the Kim Jongin who has a dick of steel would have a heart of gold?”

“Do I even want to know whose mouth that came out of?” Baekhyun grumbles from my shoulder. The three of us burst into a fit of laughter, ignoring the pointed looks from other students.

Paris is cold, but it’s nothing us New Yorkers can’t handle. Baekhyun forces me to take his scarf because quote, it’s too troublesome if I get sick, end quote. Funny enough, I don’t see him giving special treatment to anyone else.

Our hotel is in the _Quartier Latin_ , which is a lovely area with renaissance style architecture. I’m talking long, white pillars and columns. The streets are bustling with visitors and locals. It’s a blend of rapid-fire French and other languages. My heart bursts when I see the small children shrieking in excitement and couples around us walking hand in hand.

I stare at the vintage hotel looming above us. The entrance is intricately beautiful with the brown-white branches hanging above the archway. Bronze Christmas lights are interwoven between the branches and twinkle through the gray haze of the sky.

Our room assignments are straight forward. Teachers stay together by gender, but Baekhyun’s the only one who has his own room because he’s a picky bastard. The group of students is divided by gender as well. We’re allowed to choose between duplexes or a regular suite. Duplexes are four to a room, and regular suites are two to a room.

Jongin and Kyungsoo obviously choose to room together in a regular suite. I pick the duplex because I’m the last one to choose and all the regular suites have been chosen by my female peers.

My friends wave me off, and I glumly lug my bags to the room number. When I walk into the duplex, my jaw drops. It’s two stories—the top level is loft-style. The interior is crispy white with green accents.

There’s a plush green velvet sofa by the base of the stairs that lead up the second level where the king bed is.

I’m assuming that we’re supposed to share the king-sized bed, but I’m not sure four can fit. It looks like someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight.

I gape at the large windows overlooking the courtyard. I’m assuming it’s usually more green because there are vines and branches tangled on the sides of the buildings but the hotel’s decorated by more fairy lights, so everything looks magical.

I wonder just how much the PTA put into this trip. Of course, the amount we had to pay was insane, but Tamara didn’t complain even after donating a large sum to the school.

“Shit,” someone hisses behind me. “This is fucking incredible.”

I whirl around to see Jisoo, and my smile drops, and everything is immediately ruined. For a minute, Jisoo and her friends all blink at me—trying to decide whether to push me out of the window or swear at me.

Chaeyoung—or Rosé if you didn’t want to die from her heels up your ass narrows her eyes at me. “ _Ew_. What the hell?”

Jisoo and Jennie exchange annoyed looks. “Someone call the exterminator. I see a little pest,” Jennie snickers.

Lisa sends me a sheepish look as she quietly moves from her vicious friends. Sometimes, I wonder why she hangs around them, but they seem like childhood friends. Out of the four, she’s the only one I don’t dislike.

Jisoo opens her mouth to speak, and I can already feel the poison dripping from her voice. She loathes me, and honestly, I’d humor her but I kind of hate her catty ass. “Get out, Dora. There are already four people. No space for a parasite,” she snaps, playing with her acrylics.

I roll my eyes. “It seems one of you is blind.” I hold up the room card. “This is my room too.” I’d love to get out, but if I did, I’d be sleeping in the courtyard.

Rosé groans. “God, can someone mute her? Why is she still talking?”

Jennie makes a face. “The real question is why is she still here?”

I ignore their comments. “Who’s the odd man? Someone doesn’t belong here, and I’m not leaving.”

Jisoo glowers at me. “You are.”

Lisa opens her mouth to speak, but she’s shot down by her friends. And so I realize that she’s the one who has another room assignment. Now, I have nothing against Lisa, but I do have a problem with her self-centered friends who think they own the world.

I’m already too tired and jet-lagged to deal with any of them. This wasn’t the school hallway. They were like the low budget Plastics, and Jisoo is comparable to Regina George, except no one wants her clingy ass.

Jongin sleeps with everyone, but funnily, he has good taste and avoids them like the plague.

Jennie crosses her arms, leveling a nasty scowl at me. “You’re not welcomed here. Actually, I don’t think you were welcomed at Lincoln in the first place.”

Jisoo laughs haughtily. “You hear that girls?” Silence—and she turns her ears theatrically. “The Ghetto’s calling her back. I bet we’re not the only ones who think you’re an eyesore. I mean—it must mean something if your mother sent you here to spend the holidays. _Far_ away from her. Too bad it comes at the expense of everyone on this trip.”

The sound of blood rushing through my ears is deafening. Maybe I was as low as them. “Oh, Jisoo.” I tsk, sneering. “To hurt me; you’d actually have to be better than me, but you’re not. Your friends don’t really care about you—and what about your family? Why are you here instead of spending Christmas with them? I bet it’s the same. Daddy left on vacation with his new mistress, didn’t he? And Mommy’s too busy having wine tastings with her friends to give you any attention. Sorry, Jisoo. You’re looking at the wrong person if you think I’m giving you any. I don’t swing that way.”

She grounds her jaw and looks positively homicidal. Jisoo is seconds away from bashing my head to the ground, but Lisa holds her back firmly. The gentle girl sends me a pleading look.

I hold up a hand. “Alright, alright. I’ll see myself out. Bye girls. Don’t throw too many orgies here—you wouldn’t want to wake up with a rash.”

I knock on Kyungsoo and Jongin’s suite. “Hae? What’s up?” Jongin asks, blinking back at me with a disoriented look.

Kyungsoo peeks his head behind Jongin’s shoulder. “Why are you here?”

I throw him an offended look. “Because I miss my best friends?”

Jongin snorts. “At least smile when you say that so you don’t look so fake.”

I beam. “I hate my roommates. Mind if I stay with you guys instead?”

Kyungsoo steadies a wary look in my direction. “Hae…” I knew what he was thinking. Madame Boudier threatened to send us packing if she found us sharing rooms with the opposite gender. What was she expecting? This isn’t the 16th century.

I jut out my lips. “Pretty please? If you knew who my roomie was, you’d absolutely be in my shoes too.”

Jongin lifts a brow. “Who?”

“Jisoo and her friends,” I answer, rejoiced by the horrified looks Kyungsoo sends me. “Exactly.”

They move back to let me in. Kyungsoo sits down beside me when I plop on the large bed. “Don’t let the teachers see you in this hallway and—“

I nod in boredom. “Yes, yes—no hallway sex, blah, blah, blah—don’t care.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You’re an asshole.”

I blow a kiss at him and he swats it away. “So, what’s the plan with you guys?”

Kyungsoo and Jongin exchange looks. “We’re going shopping,” Kyungsoo answers, eyes twinkling.

Oh. No.

Jongin groans. “I did not agree! Just so you know.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re just whipped for Do Kyungsoo.”

After changing into something warmer, the three of us head down to the lobby. Baekhyun is on the phone, eyes solemnly glaring into the distance. He sees us in his peripheral and shoves his phone unceremoniously in his pocket.

“Mr. Byun,” Jongin acknowledges with a polite smile.

Baekhyun surprisingly returns a smile. “Call me Baekhyun when it’s just us.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “About time.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo quips, darting his eyes away comedically.

I chuckle, nudging Kyungsoo. “It’s time to follow your own advice, kiddo. Be civil.”

“I’m sorry who was it that said ‘Mr. Byun’s an uptight _connard_ ’ again?” Kyungsoo sasses, waggling his eyebrows.

Baekhyun leans toward Jongin. “Translation?”

“Asshole,” Jongin replies nonchalantly.

I merely shrug at Baekhyun. “I don’t lie.”

He levels a dead look at me. “You’re a walking contradiction. You hide things all the time, Kang.”

“For the first time, I don’t disagree with that,” Kyungsoo pipes in.

I send them both my middle finger to which they ignore. “We’re exploring the Latin Quarter. You wanna come with us, Mr. By—Baekhyun?” Jongin offers.

I shake my head frivolously. “No way.”

Baekhyun squints his eyes at me. “Just for saying that, I’m definitely tagging along now.”

I curse under my breath. He was most definitely going to nag and lecture me the whole time about school, and this was Paris, the most beautiful city—I _don’t_ want him here.

The older man elbows me. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, wise girl.”

I cock my eyebrows at him. “I think Jisoo wants to suck your dick—maybe you should give her a visit instead.”

“Why should I? I’ve already got someone who’s only talent is deep throa—“ I kick him in the shin, ignoring his painful yelp as he hunches over to catch his breath.

Kyungsoo and Jongin shake their heads. “Both of you flirt in a very strange way.”

“We’re not _flirting_ ,” I snap.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, dusting off the dirt on his pant leg. “Me? I’d drop dead the day we hold a conversation in which I don’t actually want to end myself.”

I glare at him. “Why are you even here? You’re not exactly fun to be around, Mr. Antisocial.”

Kyungsoo claps his hands, breaking us apart. “Listen, here, lovebirds. You guys can scream at each other later and have makeup sex or whatever other kinky shit—stop fighting or I’m ditching all of you.”

Baekhyun and I close our mouths, and that’s when Baekhyun turns to glare at me again. “You _told_ them?”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but Jongin butts in, “Baekhyun, you shouldn’t bite her collarbone so much if you’d wanted to keep it a secret.”

“But—“

“She didn’t tell us. We deducted that you two were boning when Hae showed up to the café, wearing your hoodie.”

Baekhyun sighs, pinching his temples. I snort. “Thanks for the faith, dickhead.”

“I’m gonna lose my fucking job—“

Kyungsoo laughs at that. “I mean—maybe you should’ve considered that when you stuck your dick where it didn’t belong?”

Baekhyun groans in mortification as the three of us share a good-humored laugh. “We won’t say anything, Baekhyun. You have our word,” Jongin tells him, patting him on the shoulder.

Somehow, Jongin has the ability to calm Baekhyun down. It’s kind of weird since the two were really the last people on Earth to bond.

As it turns out, Baekhyun and Jongin have a lot of things in common. From their music taste to their taste in street-style clothes. Throughout the entire time, they easily converse about everything, and Jongin looks like he’s speaking a close friend instead of an adult.

I’m in awe of how much younger Baekhyun looks when he’s not brooding. Then again, Baekhyun seems to age backward every year.

Kyungsoo forces us to stop in multiple shops, and my feet hurt like a bitch. I absolutely regret not wearing socks because the back of my heels is chaffing like crazy.

When Kyungsoo drags Jongin into a vintage shop with cool finds, I have to crouch outside for a second. Baekhyun’s been gone for almost twenty minutes now—where he went, I have no clue.

I massage my ankle, wincing when I see blood. Someone kneels down beside me. “What are you—“

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything when he digs into a box of something that looks like Bandaids. “You should’ve said something. How long has it been?”

I bite my lip, staring at him—speechless. He didn’t need to. There’s sweat gleaning on his forehead. I stifle a laugh, using the back of my hands to wipe away the sweat droplets.

“I’m fine,” I insist, attempting to snatch the bandage from him but he doesn’t let me.

Instead, he pulls off my slip-ons and carefully places the bandaid on the irritated area of my heel. “You’re not fine. We won’t say anything if you complain, you know?”

I chew on the inside of my cheeks. Hesitantly, I tell him, “I hate being a burden.”

Baekhyun’s eyes crinkle when I meet them. “You’re not a burden, Kang. I don’t know where you got that from. If anything, you’re just a bit mental.”

I laugh, pushing at his chest. “I hate you, Mr. Byun.”

“Don’t I fucking know that,” he teases, squeezing my nose adoringly.


	10. incipient

**[haeeun]**

For the first night, we’re forced to have dinner together with everyone else. Usually, I wouldn’t mind this notion, but I hate Jisoo with a passion and there’s nothing stopping her from running her mouth.

Kyungsoo, Jongin, and I settle near the bottom of the table around the teachers. Baekhyun sits across from me, and to my dismay, Jisoo steals the next open seat to him. Her friends are scattered nearby.

“May I?” I turn my head to see Sehun smiling at me. I’ve never talked to him personally, but he’s in my environmental science class. Strangely, he’s at the top of our class despite the wild behavior he exhibits at his parties.

“Sure,” I chirp, waving my hand.

He plops down beside me and leans onto his elbow, staring at me. “So…you’re the new girl. Haeeun, right?”

Sehun is conventionally handsome—actually, he’s undeniably pretty. He has the same boyish charm as Jongin, but there’s something about him that makes him different than the boys his age.

That’s a total contradiction from the rumors of him, though. Jisoo sends me a glare from across the table. I bat my lashes at her, and she turns to Baekhyun, sidling his arm.

Baekhyun’s expression is tight, and he looks visibly upset. At what? I couldn’t tell.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” I ask, attempting to focus on the pretty boy beside me.

Sehun grins. “Maybe I wanted to finally talk to you—besides, they look like they’re a little busy.” We both glance over to his group of friends currently being scolded by Señora Diaz. She may be small, but she is mighty scary.

“Your girlfriend’s giving me death glares. You sure you want to cross the threshold?”

He blinks with feigned innocence. “Hae—can I call you that? Your friends call you that, right?”

I nod, and he continues, “listen, Jisoo’s nice and all—“ I throw him a skeptical look, and he laughs, admitting, “who am I kidding? She’s a—“

“Bitch,” I note, and he laughs, eyes twinkling.

“You’re spunky. I like that.”

Jisoo could definitely hear what I said because she looks like she’s close to stabbing me with her silverware. Sehun ignores her eyes flashing him warning signs.

I can understand why she’s pissed, but I don’t see why it warrants Baekhyun’s irritation. What did he have to do with any of this?

Kyungsoo taps my shoulder and points to his phone. Jongin has a shit-eating grin on his face, and I’m just confused.

Ignoring their sly smiles, I turn back to Sehun. “Sorry, my friends are stupid.”

He glances toward two grinning idiots and smiles at them. “I’m jealous of you.”

I want to laugh at the irony. “Why?”

Sehun shrugs. “Jongin and Kyungsoo are nice people. I’ve always known them, but they tend to stay away from the bigger crowds. Well, I talk to mostly Jongin here and there, but I know they’re both genuine people.”

I stare at him. “Why do you choose to hang around people like her?” He follows my gaze to Jisoo currently giggling at something Baekhyun is saying. I ignore the flare of jealousy, crawling up and threatening to claw its way out.

“I don’t know. Gotta stay relevant somehow, right?” He smiles, but there’s just something strange about him. I can’t put a finger on it. He seems like he’s hiding behind his pretty smiles and easy words. It unsettles me, but not in a way where I’d dislike him. Sehun doesn’t seem to be the type to hold any ulterior motives.

The rest of the dinner is calm except for the few annoying times when Jongin and Kyungsoo send me knowing smiles. The three of us goof off, and I pretend that I don't see Baekhyun humoring Jisoo’s advances.

I know he’s doing it to get on my nerves, but I refuse to let him win. Sehun bids us goodbye and heads off in the directions of his drunken friends.

Later, I stop by Baekhyun to clear up whatever weird air there was between us, but when the door opens, I see Jisoo staring back at me.

Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “what are you doing here?”

She snarls, “what do you think? Isn’t it obvious?”

I stare at her messy hair and smudged lipgloss. Then, my eyes trail behind her until they land on Baekhyun. The tops of his shirt are unbuttoned. My stomach bottoms out.

Rolling her eyes at my nonresponsive reaction, she pushes past me. I stare at him, a strange burning sensation washing over me.

“Well, aren’t you gonna come in?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow.

I walk inside, letting the door click shut behind me. “Did you kiss her?”

Baekhyun’s jaw clenches. “Why do you care? I thought you were too busy with Oh Sehun.”

I scoff. “You’re _jealous_?”

He laughs incredulously, raking a hand through his hair. “Me? You’re asking me that?”

“So what else explains why you’re lashing out at me?”

Suddenly, my back is pressed against the wall, and his angry gaze slices through me. I don’t break eye contact, even though he’s terrifying me. He doesn’t say anything, so I do.

“Why her?” I grit out.

Baekhyun laughs darkly. “You jealous, _Eun_?”

The nickname gives me whiplash, and I have to pinch myself to not cry. “Don’t fucking call me that, Byun Baekhyun. And you don’t get to be an asshole to me for speaking to a friend.”

“A friend,” he spits. “Come on, who do you take me for? Could’ve fooled me.”

I throw my hands up. “Why are you giving me shit for doing nothing wrong? You made out with Jisoo—you _know_ that I fucking hate her. Just how low can you get?”

He captures my lips roughly, prying me open from the start. I whimper and he bites hard. I can taste blood and I can taste the familiar scent of Jisoo’s lipgloss. Nausea hits me like a truck, and I shove him off of me. It felt wrong. The kiss didn’t feel like Baekhyun. Not the old one. Not even this Baekhyun that I’ve gotten to know.

I’m staring at a stranger, and he _scares_ me.

I can see the regret in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as he watches me scrub my lips with shaking fingers.

Baekhyun scoffs. “Well, did you find the answer you were looking for?”

“You—“ I stammer. “You’re a _monster_.”

His face turns ashen as he reaches out for me. I shake my head as Baekhyun becomes a fuzzy blob. I blink, realizing that I’m crying.

Without bothering to hear what he has to say, I’m already barreling out to the hallway. And I don’t glance back once.

[2017; past]

“He likes you,” Joori tells me.

I ignore her.

“Eun,” she whines, and I glance back up at her. “He likes you—maybe you should give it a chance?”

I shake my head. “I’m not interested.”

Joori makes a face. “Is it because of my brother?”

“No, I don’t want a relationship. I can’t handle one right now,” I explain, doodling on the margin of my homework.

“Oh come on, you should experience your first prom with me. It’s perfect. Your first, my last? Please! It’ll be so fun. My friend really wants to see you again. He genuinely likes you. You need that—not some halfhearted asshole who treats you like—“

I snort. “He’s your brother.”

Joori throws her hand up. “I don’t care! You’re my friend. I care about you both, but he will never give you what you want. I just know it.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You...know something, don’t you?”

Joori freezes. “What? No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I lean closer. “How do you know what I want? How do you know Baekhyun’s intentions?”

She leans back, laughing nervously. “Come on, Eun. Don’t be silly. He’s my brother. Of course, I know him.”

“That’s absolute bullshit,” I snipe.

Joori throws her hands up. “Fine! Eun, I love you and all, but you’re _younger_ than me. He may be insane for screwing you, but he's not that crazy. Besides, Baekhyun’s an absolute asshole. He has problems committing to anyone in general. You think you’re special just because he houses you? _No_. Wake up. He doesn’t like you like that. You know that he’s using you right?”

“Y-you said that he looked at me differently. Why—“

She sighs. “I know what I said, but he has his own set of problems. He’s responsible, sure—I mean he took you in. But he’s goal-oriented. His mom—she’s the one who wants him to become a doctor, and before he does that, you’re nothing to him. He loves his mom so much and her death practically fucked him up. The only reason he’s gotten back up is because of the promise he made to her. Before Mi—“ She pauses, shaking her head. “Never mind, that. Eun, just use your head for once _please_?”

“Why is the first thing I hear when I get home Joori’s yelling?” Baekhyun asks, the door closing behind him.

“She’s trying to convince me to go to prom with her, but I’ve been refusing,” I say quickly.

Joori rolls her eyes, but I ignore him. Baekhyun frowns. “That’s it?”

She gasps. “What do you mean ‘that’s it?’ Prom is a whole experience. My friend likes her, and I want to set them up.”

I throw her a glare, but she only smiles at me, batting her lashes. “I don’t care—“

Baekhyun glances between the two of us. “It sounds good. Why don’t you go? I think it’ll be a fun experience.”

Joori beams. “I told you!”

I protest, “what about me not being interested in him do you not get?”

Joori sighs. “You met him _once_. Oppa, convince her for me!”

Baekhyun drawls, “you’re seventeen, Eun. You should experience having a high school boyfriend and whatnot.”

I blink at him, and Joori sends me a pained look. I can hear her practically shout _I told you so_ in my ears. I don’t want to hear this from him. Out of everyone, shouldn’t he care more? “What about us?” I ask.

“What _about_ us?” He questions me coldly.

I clench my jaw and jump to my feet. And then I storm out of his apartment, slamming the door behind me. The last thing I heard was Joori calling her brother an asshole.

[2019-2020; present]

I rush back into my room, pushing past my friends who send me curious looks as I shut myself inside the bathroom. Curling behind the door, I slide down onto the floor.

Then, one by one, tears cascade down my cheeks. I tremble by myself, and I cry until I can’t breathe, and it _hurts_ to realize that there’s no one here with me. My person is gone. This Baekhyun couldn’t give less of a shit about me. My Baekhyun was never going to return.

So, I cry. I cry for him, and I cry for us.

An hour or two later, there’s a knock behind me. I don’t move as I mumble, “leave me alone.”

“Talk to us, Hae,” Kyungsoo pleads.

I sniffle, pulling myself up. Then, I unlock the door to see Kyungsoo and Jongin hovering. They take me in a hug, and the tears come out again.

Jongin forces me to down an entire water bottle when he sets me down on the bedside. “No more secrets. What _happened_?”

“Argument with Baekhyun,” I tell them, avoiding their eyes.

Kyungsoo furrows his forehead. “But you’re crying? You never cried like this before—tell us the truth. We’re your friends. We’re here for you to depend on. You’re not _alone_.”

I’d really needed those words. Perhaps I’ve always been hesitant to tell them anything about myself because I was afraid I’d have to leave again and lose them like I lost Joori.

“Baekhyun is—“ I hiccup. “I knew him.”

Jongin tilts his head. “I mean—he’s your teacher?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “That’s not what she means, dumbass.” Then, he turns back to me. “How did you meet him?”

I swallow nervously. “The first time I met him was when I was seventeen. I ran away from my last guardian. At the time, Tamara hadn’t met me yet, and I went from home to home because of the…system. Well, he found me lying on the ground in the middle of winter. And he took me in.”

Jongin asks, “were the two of you in a relationship?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Kyungsoo cuts in sharply, “why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

“I didn’t think it was the right time.”

Jongin sighs. “Kyung, she told us in the end. I’m sure she didn’t mean to—“

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that.” And then his eyes grow even colder when stares at me. “Hae, it takes more than one person to commit to a friendship. All you do is hide things from us. How many times have I told you that you can tell us anything? Have you ever taken me seriously? Do you even see me as a friend?”

“Of course I do,” I answer desperately.

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. How can I? What have you done to prove otherwise? Jongin and I initiate everything. All you’ve ever done is gone along. You _don’t_ care.”

My lips tremble. “Kyung, I—“

“Fuck you—honestly,” he spats, and then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him.

Jongin groans into his palms. “I’m sorry. He’s hotheaded. You know that, Hae. He doesn’t mean any of it.”

I sigh. “Go chase after him, Jong. Make sure he’s okay.”

Jongin looks reluctant to leave me alone. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.”

I watch him leave. Now, I’m truly alone, and it’s _my_ fault.

When I wake up, sweaty and utterly exhausted after _sleeping_ , I know something’s wrong. I sit up, shivering. My head feels spotty and I can see black dotting my vision.

I attempt to stand only to fall over. I hiss in pain. Looking around the room, I only see Jongin sleeping on the bed. Kyungsoo is on the sofa. My heart pangs in guilt.

Struggling to stand, I manage to make it into the bathroom before I puke my entire guts out. “Hae? Are you okay?” It’s Jongin’s voice.

I nod shakily, leaning over the toilet and dry-heaving. “Just a cold,” I murmur.

Jongin kneels beside me, pressing the back of his palm to my forehead. He frowns. “You have a fever.”

At this time, Kyungsoo is standing near the doorway. “Are you okay?”

I freeze to stare at him. “Kyungsoo.”

He shakes his head. “Save it. You look like absolute shit.”

I laugh, and that was a terrible choice because I have to turn toward the toilet to throw up again. “I feel like one. I’m sorry for hiding things from you both. I’m a terrible friend, but I promise—I’m going to try har—“ I throw up again, and Jongin winces beside me.

Kyungsoo kneels down as well. He pats my back as I continue to empty my stomach contents. “I forgive you,” he murmurs.

Jongin beams beside me, but his smile falls when I heave again. “I’m going to head down to see if I can get any medicine from the teachers. I think you might’ve gotten the stomach flu.”

Kyungsoo waves him off and then he glances worriedly at me. “You won’t be able to go on that tour today.”

I nod weakly. “M’yeah.”

“Don’t worry, Hae. I’ll stay with you.”

I shake my head firmly. “No fucking way. You were looking forward to Paris the most. Today’s our last day—you _can’t._ ”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Last time I checked, you aren’t the boss of me.”

“I’m fine,” I force out.

“You’re _not_ okay. You’re green and you smell like shit.”

“Thanks for the moral support,” I mutter.

He snorts. “You love me.”

“You're not staying.”

“Hae—“

“That’s final. If you stay, I will go on the tour and get everyone else sick. You don’t want that, do you?”

Kyungsoo looks conflicted. He knows that I have nothing to lose. “Fine, asshole. I’ll go, but you have to text me your temperature every hour.”

“Yes, father,” I tease, poking his arm. “Any other bothersome request?”

He wrinkles his nose. “If you weren’t sick, I’d shove your ungrateful head down that toilet.”

I titter, “glad I’m sick then.” The urge to vomit hits me again, and I hunch over, groaning. “Nope, _nope_. I take that back.”

After taking a million pills and being buried under a pile of Kyungsoo’s plush throws, I finally get him out of my hair. Jongin refused to go, but I made Kyungsoo drag him out.

I have never hated Byun Baekhyun more than I hated him right now—scratch that, maybe I have—but he is absolutely despicable.

I won’t be able to see the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe or—long story short, fuck him. He’s an asshole, and I hope he burns in hell. I blame this fever on him.

I wake up periodically throughout the day—each time, worse than the last. I can’t stop shuddering and even though I’m no longer vomiting, I can’t seem to get anything down without wanting to pass out.

I reach for my phone to call Kyungsoo to come back because I feel like death and the meds haven’t helped at all. My temperature has gotten higher since this morning. When I attempt to unlock my phone, I come to the realization that it’s out of batteries—dead. Much like me if I stayed here.

Weakly, I push the blankets off of me and fall to the floor, crawling because I can’t stand without my vision swirling.

There’s a loud pounding on the door, and I almost want to cry in relief. My friends are back, but then I’m confused. Kyungsoo and Jongin had key cards. Why would they need to knock?

I shake my head. The headache was too much to think through, so I just forced myself on unsteady legs to open the door.

My strength gives out, and I fall forward, but a sturdy arm wraps around my waist, steadying my fall. I attempt to move back, but I’m far too weak.

“Kang? Are you okay?”

The voice is fuzzy as my consciousness moves in and out. Gingerbread. The smell is so overwhelmingly strong, it makes me nauseous, and I don’t know how that’s even possible with how nauseous I already feel. I’m too fatigued to dry heave, so I fall limb.

Baekhyun. He hooks an arm under my legs, lifting me. “Hold on tight, Eun,” he murmurs.

Was I dreaming? Why is he calling me Eun? How does he even _know_? I tighten my arm around his neck despite my strength slipping away from me.

“Bae? Why are you here? What time is it?”

He sets me down on the bed, combing a finger through my hair. “It’s five in the evening. I had a bad feeling because I didn’t see you on today’s tour.”

I swallow. “Go away. I don’t want to see you. You’re terrible.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You have to stop playing with me like this. We fuck—we’re not lovers. You can’t envy every guy that talks to me. You can’t kiss my worst enemy and expect me to forgive you. Who do you take me for?”

He rummages through the pile of medicine on the nightstand. “I know, and I’m sorry. Truly. I fucked up. You can hate me after you feel better okay?”

I purse my lips, not having the strength to argue with him. “At least you can finally put your degree to use, Dr. Byun.”

Baekhyun stiffens beside me. “How do you know that?”

“You called me Eun,” I tell him. “ _Why?_ ”

He doesn’t answer, and frankly, I’m too delirious from this fever to care. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

“Does your saliva count?” I snark. “You know—when you kissed me without consent. Bastard.”

Remind me not to mess with a feverous Haeeun—even I’m scared of her. Baekhyun looks guilty. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

“I’m sorry,” I mock. “What else are you sorry for? Forgetting who I am? Asshole. To think I spent all that time worrying for nothing. _Fuck you_.”

Baekhyun inhales sharply. “So you do know who I am.”

I scoff. “ _No_ , I don’t know who you are because you’re not him. Actually, you’re both assholes. I just can’t decipher who’s the worst one. The one who uselessly cared for me only to fuck me up or this one—the one who only cares about himself.”

Baekhyun forces me to finish an entire bowl of soup, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life. I couldn’t taste anything, and the texture made it hard to swallow. He makes me take more medicine and forces me to sip some water before I hurl back out the pills.

We don’t talk about what happened earlier. He focuses on wiping my sweat silently. My stream of consciousness is unreliable. I’d wake up every now and then, but eventually, I’m too exhausted to stay awake for more than ten minutes.

I can hear a knock on the door later in the evening, and Baekhyun is speaking to someone. Kyungsoo and Jongin, I think.

I hear the door close again, and he treads back toward me. There’s no longer any light outside the windows, and the night is completely dead.

“Hey,” he prompts, sitting down beside me.

My teeth chatter. “I’m cold,” I tell him.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows grow taut. “I’m sorry, Eun. I can’t put you under any more blankets. You’ll overheat.”

I shake my head. “Stop calling me that. I don’t like it.”

He looks conflicted. “Listen to me, Eun. Forget about your hatred for me until you’re no longer burning up. I’m sorry, and I’ll keep apologizing, but you have to promise you’ll stop resisting.”

I squint my eyes. “Who are you?”

Baekhyun assesses me carefully. “Your teacher and the guy you conveniently receive orgasms from.”

I snort out a laugh, and he breaks into a smile. “Where’s your frown? Where're your lifeless eyes?”

He kisses my forehead, and even past my woozy stomach, I can feel butterflies. “We’re calling a truce for now. Promise me.”

“Fine—will you shut up then?”

“Depends.”

I groan in disdain. “On what circumstances?”

“Well, first of all, do you want me to shut up?”

“I just asked you to,” I deadpan.

Baekhyun’s lip twitches in amusement. “You’re a pathological liar. I thought we established that.”

I pull him down on top of me. “I think that was all you.”

His eyes darken with heat as his gaze dips to my face. “Stop seducing me.”

“I’m not.”

“I think I’d be more convinced if you stopped trying to pull my shirt off, wise girl.”

“You got me,” I taunt playfully.

Baekhyun leans forward until our breaths mingle. I pull on his shirt, and our lips finally press together. He sighs in pure content, tilting my chin up for more access. I mewl, and he slips his tongue in.

I missed him, and even though I hate him, I hate fighting with him more. I didn’t care if he kissed Jisoo—she didn’t get to see this side of him. _No_ , she didn’t get to feel the way his hands roams everywhere, tugging my tank top off in one easy motion.

Baekhyun pulls off his shirt, dropping it carelessly beside the bed. I groan, feeling him press himself on me.

“I’ll get you sick,” I whisper as he continues to taste me.

He hums, “a little too late for that. Besides, I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

I chuckle adoringly, tangling my fingers in his hair. “Good because I wasn’t going to let you go anyway.”

Baekhyun tugs my sweat pants down, slipping his fingers against my throbbing core. “I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing down from my chin.

I moan when he pinches my clit lightly. “No foreplay,” I gasp. “I want you inside.” My hands fumble down to his jeans. With shaky fingers, I push his jeans and boxers down, exposing his erection. “Fuck, you’re so hard—“ My breath catches in my throat when he distracts me with his teeth on my nipple. “ _Bae_.”

He pushes inside of me without any warning, and I almost faint from the pleasure of him _stretching_ me. Baekhyun pulls back, his lips shiny with spit. His eyes are dark—almost ravenous, but there’s something else. Tenderness? Maybe.

The slow, deliberate way he’s thrusting into me—I haven’t felt this in a long time, and I almost forgot how _good_ it felt. It’s almost like we aren’t fucking.

It’s romantic. There’s too much eye contact. Too _many_ tender kisses. But I don’t hate it. I could come from the way he looks at me alone. He showers me with compliments. He tells me that I feel perfect, and from the way he’s treating me, I almost want to believe that this is perfect.

Missionary isn’t our thing. Baekhyun doesn’t like it because it’s too personal. He usually fucks me against a wall or his desk or in our cars— _never_ on a bed.

“Are you real?” I ask, running a finger over his throat.

His smile is soft—almost too surreal for me to process. “Can’t you feel my pulse?”

“Why aren’t you fucking me?”

His incredulous laugh vibrates on my skin when he sucks. The sharp sting of the hickey makes me lightheaded. I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I fall over the edge.

Our skin is flush against one other, and I can feel the way my nipples pinch against his bare chest. I drop my hands from his hair, running them down his back—feeling every slope and rope of muscle on his back. He’s ridiculously sexy—even when he’s taking me in the most tender way one can imagine.

“I don’t want to push you too hard. You’re still ill,” he breathes.

I squeeze his ass, pushing myself to meet his thrusts. “You make me so _full_ —I’m stretched to the fucking brim. You feel good, Bae. So mind-numbingly good, and I’m gonna come— _fuck_.”

“You make missionary so dirty. Fucking hell—come for me, baby.”

With another one of his deep thrusts, I press my face against his shoulder, muffling my cry. The orgasm hits me in parts—my vision fading to black for a split second and the powerful rush of Endorphins splitting my mind apart.

Baekhyun continues with his resolute thrusts and I squeeze my legs around his waist tighter, feeling him release inside of me. We’re so close that I can feel how fast is heart is beating. I can hear every breath he takes. It elevates every tiny bit of this moment.

He cups my face with his right hand, tilting my head to kiss me. His tongue is warm and soft and he feels perfect. The smell of his exertion—his left hand squeezing my waist. It makes the heat return, and I tell him to move again.

Baekhyun listens—this time, moving slower. In tiny movements. I can feel him hardening again, and he tells me that I’m going to be the death of him.

I smile up at him, flashing my dimples, and at this moment, something sparks in his eyes as he anchors his attention on me, unwavering. Something’s changed between us, and the fear grips me, but I shove it down. I don’t want it to ruin this.

He returns a shy smile, pressing our foreheads together. Baekhyun’s thrusts are lazy, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s making me come again and again. The spark of electricity weaves through the air. It travels between us—around us. Inside of me. _Everywhere_.

“Don’t come crying to me when you’re vomiting your insides out,” I tell him.

Baekhyun laughs softly. “Why don’t you stop crying from these orgasms and we’ll talk?”

“You cheeky fucker.”

“I mean—you’re not wrong. I’m still inside of you.”


	11. imbroglio

**[haeeun]**

When I wake up, I feel like an absolute disaster zone. Prior to what people think of waking up after sex—romantic and graceful and face to face with a handsome man—no, that is not the case at all. I’m sticky and I smell like sex.

Thankfully, I’ve broken from the fever, but my throat still feels like a train wreck and my body—god, is there anywhere that’s not sore?

Baekhyun is on top of me and every breath we take, my skin stings from the sweat stickage. Is that even a word? Probably not. My head hurts like a bitch, and my mouth tastes like I sucked on a vomit flavored lollipop. I’m definitely not in the brain space to make conclusive thoughts.

Maybe I should be grateful that I hadn’t died overnight—what the hell even happened? I recall bits of a conversation and sex. Too much sex. _Amazing_ sex, though.

I squint my eyes at Baekhyun who is sleeping way too peacefully for his naughtiness hours before—his head nestled on my boobs, arms slung wildly. His skin is glistening. All golden and delicious.

I also see pink lips—slightly puffy as a result of last night. I see the perfect curves of his back when his body falls and rises from his slow breathing. Most importantly, I see that he’s still here.

Baekhyun not only slept over the entire night—but he also screwed my rationality out the window. Okay, I’m being dramatic. I didn’t want to admit that I liked that he stayed. It’d mean that I’d have to admit to other feelings. If I had any.

I rake my finger through his unkempt locks. He hums pleasantly, snuggling closer. Baekhyun must’ve been exhausted because he even doesn’t wake fifteen minutes later, and I was honestly too hungry to stay in bed with him.

Fortunately, I manage to slip out from under him. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, so he doesn’t wake when I tuck him back under the covers.

I take a quick shower and use concealer to cover up the state of my skin, a terrible aftermath of what I can only describe as morbidity. I also cover up the bite marks and hickeys, cursing at Baekhyun here and there.

I pull over a pair of jeans and a knitted sweater. Snatching my bag and Jongin’s scarf, I glance back one last time at a sleeping Baekhyun before letting the door click behind me.

I know I could’ve stayed and woken him up. Maybe thanked him for breaking my fever. Maybe even for the amazing sex. But I couldn’t.

And the only excuse I have for that is simply—I’m a coward. I’m afraid to face whatever it is I feel.

We’re doomed. Two years ago and even now. Nothing’s changed. I still run away at every chance I get. I still lie out of every breath I take. I can’t trust him. Not after what he’s done to me.

And before we ever confront the truth, I will never admit that I still have feelings for him.

I head down to the lobby after the boys return my texts. Kyungsoo and Jongin meet me there with sly, knowing smiles.

I heave a deep breath because I can already feel my headache returning. Jongin hands me a water bottle and makes me drink the entire thing before the two of them even say a word.

“So,” Kyungsoo begins, clapping his hands. “How are you feeling?”

I send him a grim smile in return. “Terrible.”

Jongin pats my back comfortingly. “At least the color’s returned to your face. My scarf looks great on you, by the way.”

“Thanks, Jong,” I murmur. Turning to Kyungsoo, I ask, “where did you guys stay last night?”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Baekhyun’s suite.”

“I was surprised he didn’t kick us out forcibly. You know—he’s not that bad. He asked us if we could stay the night in his room, and he’d take care of you,” Jongin elaborates.

I blink. “Then how did he find me? Did either of you tell him what room I was in?”

The two of them shake their heads. “No, but I heard the hotel staff laughing about complaints of a man knocking on every door on our floor,” Jongin notes, scratching his chin.

I snort a laugh, and Kyungsoo shakes his head, eyes shining in amusement. “What a moron.”

“What can I say? Takes one to know one,” Kyungsoo teases, nudging my arm.

I ignore him. The two of them drag me to get hot paninis from the food stands nearby. Later, we’re told to gather at the lobby in the next hour or so—at around nine AM—to head to the next city on our itinerary by the Eurostar.

The train is jam-packed with the addition of us. Kyungsoo and I sit beside each other, and I let him take the window seat because he won’t stop blackmailing me for it. Jongin sits across from Kyungsoo, busily snapping pictures of the lush green scenery.

“Mind if I sit here?” Sehun peeks his head down the aisle.

Jongin grins. “Hell yeah, why not?”

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at the both of them, and I quietly whisper to him, “I think Sehun’s straight. You might want to chill out with the glaring.”

He scowls at me, and I bite back a laugh.

“Are you feeling better now, Hae?” Sehun asks, leaning forward with interest.

“How did you know?” I ask, glancing at my two friends who shrug.

Sehun laughs delightfully. “I just guessed you weren’t feeling well when I didn’t see you yesterday.”

My eyebrows knit. Since when has he paid such close attention to me? “That’s unexpected…” I drawl.

Kyungsoo tilts his head, glancing with uncertain between the two of us. “Do you like our Hae, Sehun?” He asks bluntly.

Jongin narrows his eyes at the boy. “Dude, he’s right. What are your intentions?”

Sehun tilts his head. “To date her if she’s okay with it.”

My jaw drops and I let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?”

He frowns. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

My two friends completely lose it. I watch Jongin clap him on his back with an approving grin, meanwhile, Kyungsoo shoots me _if you know, you know_ looks.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see a text message from Baekhyun. I smile apologetically at the three of them. “I’m gonna go to the restroom really quick, okay? And Sehun, thank you, but—“

He nods understandingly. “I got ya. Just friends, right?” My face brightens and he beams. “I’ll see you around, pretty.” And then he’s up and gone.

I head off toward the restrooms, blinking confusedly between both doors on opposite sides of me. When I’m about to knock on one, I’m pulled backward, enveloped by the door. “What the fu—“

Baekhyun stares down at me, and I almost have a heart attack. The door locks behind me, and I’m pushed against it.

Laughing nervously, I attempt to push him off. “Give me a warning next time, geez. You scared the crap out of me, Mr. Byun.”

The space crackles and burns between us. I swallow at the way his eyes dull at the mention of my establishing boundaries. He takes a deep breath. “Kang,” he begins. “You better have a good explanation for this morning.”

I tilt my head, blinking with feigned innocence. “It was a good morning. I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary happening.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at me, and I suddenly feel trapped in this small space. “You’re unbelievable,” he manages with a scoff.

I’m suddenly rendered silent. In what world did he have the right to be pissy at me? For all I know, I don’t owe him anything. That’s the exact terms of our relationship. He’s made it so clear many times when he expects me to keep up with the end of my stick.

Keeping my mouth shut when he screws in the backseat of his car. Pretending that he hadn’t screwed me twenty minutes before class started in the exact spot he’s teaching from. Dealing with my classmates’ audacious words when they interrogate me about Baekhyun—of which he has no clue about. Because simply, he _doesn’t_ care, and as much as it hurts, it’d been the truth.

I couldn’t expect anything from him, and I’d be delusional to claim otherwise. Which is the exact reason why seeing him irritated made me all the more furious. Because it wasn’t fair. What was wrong with protecting my heart?

“Cool,” I tell him under a calm pretense. “Am I free to go then?”

Baekhyun clenches down on his jaw. “Not until you cut out the bullshit and tell me why you left without saying a word. Last night—“

“We exchanged our vulnerabilities and what else—made love?” I pause to laugh mockingly. “Oh, come on, that wasn’t real. None of it was. I was delirious, and you were just in the heat of the moment. I may be a teenager, but you aren’t. Shouldn’t you know better?”

His eyes flash with hurt and confusion, and all of a sudden, I feel guilty for my harsh words. Fuck. I didn’t know he could continue to look so vulnerable. I didn’t expect this at all, and it hit me. His arms fall from me, and he backs up as far as he can.

Which isn’t very far because, within two steps, he’s got his path blocked by a sink. “You’re right,” he tells me.

I hold my breath. Something about his tone is grating, and it _doesn’t_ feel right to me. “Then why are you angry?”

Baekhyun grits his teeth. “I don’t have to offer you an explanation if you don’t have the decency to give me one either, Kang.”

“Wow,” I cough. “Okay, asshole. _Decency_? You know that I don’t owe you anything right? You’re always so fucking hot and cold. Just what the hell do you want me to do?”

He bites his bottom lip. “Don’t do anything. You ruin everything you touch anyway.”

My jaw falls open as a stream of anger surges within me. I don’t know why his words hit me so hard as it did. I regain my composure quickly, standing tall on my heel. Then, I march toward him, shoving at his chest. “What the fuck did you say?”

Baekhyun glances over you demeaningly. “I said what I said.”

Gritting your teeth, you spat, “this is exactly the reason why I can’t trust you, Byun Baekhyun. One minute, you treat me like dirt. The next, you’re sidling beside me—being sweet and gentle. And sometimes—“ I exhale shakily, blinking back my tears. “You look so much like him that it terrifies me, but you’re _not_ him. Somehow, you’re _worst_. Because at least, you were transparent back then.” I shove a finger at his chest. “And I know for a fact that you know who I am—even if you don’t remember everything. So don’t give me that crap about give and take because you’re clearly the one who’s being hypocritical.”

“Do you think it’s _easy_ for me to reveal the details of the last two years?” He asks, eyes blazing with pure resentment.

I stumble back. “You—“

He barks out a harsh laugh. “Do you know of the hell I went through? The first day that I woke up from that fucking accident. I had a tube shoved down my throat because my lungs were collapsed. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even cry because I had no clue what the fuck happened. Frankly, I didn’t know who I was anymore. Because _fuck_ , I wasn’t the same guy before the accident. He’s _dead_. When I left the hospital, there were a bunch of holes in my memory. I had things strewn around my place that wasn’t mine. I _couldn’t_ remember why I did what I did. The memories came to me in bursts. _None_ of them made any fucking sense. Every night, I had vivid dreams. You were there all the time, and my heart felt like I was being stabbed and I didn’t even know why or who you were. I felt trapped—living in a shell of someone else’s body.”

Baekhyun flicks his eyes coldly over me. “So, I did a fuck ton of drugs to drown out my consciousness. I fucked up my residency within the first year and got kicked out. I spiraled into depression,” he spits, pulling down his sleeves to reveal silvery scars. My breath catches in my throat as I reach out for him only for him to jerk away from me. “You see this? I tried to kill myself, Kang. And it wasn’t just one time. My father wrote it off as tantrums.”

Baekhyun’s tone is poisonous, laughing when this hadn’t been funny—none of this was humorous, and he scared me with his destructiveness. “Like I was a three year old. He didn’t care about my mental state—he didn’t care that I’d almost died from overdosing. No, the old man expected for me to get my ass up and get it together, he said. He forced me into therapy, and I had to sit through sessions upon sessions of so-called professionals who tried to pry into that other part of my brain. It’d gone nowhere, Kang. They all gave up on me within the first week. Nothing’s gotten better. The only difference now is that I have a job. My life’s a fucking nightmare, and I can’t escape a second of it. You—being here—intensifies that hell, but despite that, I’m drawn to you, and you tell me. _Tell_ me why the fuck I care so much.”

I wipe off my tears with shaky fingers, finally attempting to reach him again. This time, he doesn’t react violently; instead, let me wrap my arms around his waist. He curls into me, trembling. “Bae,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, hm? I’m sorry for leaving this morning. I’m sorry for all the times I lashed out at you. I—“ My voice cracks. “I didn’t know. I should’ve stayed, and it kills me to know all of this when I couldn’t possibly do anything for you.”

“Who are you?” Baekhyun asks, his voice barely audible above the sound of the train rumbling on the tracks.

I rub his back. “I’m someone you took in when you were twenty-five. You found me on the streets while I was slowly dying from the snow.” I bite back a sob as the memories of him—every single one of them floods my mind as if the proverbial dam has collapsed, and there was nowhere to go but up. “I fell in love with you. It was inevitable. You may not know him—but, Bae, you were an incredible person. You gave me a home. You were my fucking _home_. So when you tell me all of this, I feel like an absolute fuck up. I abandoned you when I promised you I would brave through for us.”

He pulls back, eyes rimmed red. “Did I feel the same way?”

My heart completely shatters at how vulnerable he looks. I cup his face with one hand. “You never said, but I felt it at some point.” Then, I drop my hands. “This.” I give him a tender glance over. “We don’t have to address it, Baekhyun. Let’s go wherever the road takes us. Okay?”

Baekhyun nods, leaning in until our foreheads meet. “Okay.”

I stare into his eyes, tilting my head as if to query him.

He nods again, dropping his head on my shoulders and tightening our embrace. At this moment, I’d gotten the gist that two years later—we were bound to happen. And I didn’t know whether to laugh at the hilarity of the universe or tell it to fuck off.

We decided it’d be better to leave separately so we wouldn’t stir up any suspicion. I’d rinsed off any signs of crying, but the conversation had still taken a toll on me. I attempt to plaster on a smile when I see my friends. Kyungsoo’s moved beside Jongin, and he’s currently sleeping on Jongin’s shoulder.

Jongin beams at me, waving. “You’re back. Let me guess—you hooked up with—“ He waggles his eyebrows, a knowing smile curving on his lips. “—in the restroom, didn’t you?”

I roll my eyes, attempting to brush it off as a joke. “Shut up, Jong. You don’t get to tease me when you’re the one who fucks cheerleaders under the bleachers.”

He holds his palms up. “Damn it, I can never get past you, can I?”

I laugh, feeling less tense because if there was one thing that Jongin was good at, it was making me feel better. I gauge him silently, noticing the split second that he gazes down at Kyungsoo with a tender look. It’s the same look that Baekhyun’s given me in the past.

My heart thuds in my chest at this unexpected development, but Jongin’s good at hiding it. Because like I said—in a split second, it’s gone, and if I hadn’t been so sharp, I wouldn’t have known that it was there. Jongin’s fraction of vulnerability.

I stare at him intently, and he scrunches his nose. “What?”

“You’re an asshole, Jong,” I note, crossing my arms.

Jongin seems to get an understanding. He realizes that I’ve caught him redhanded, but I definitely underestimated how skilled he was in hiding things. Which makes me realize that I’m not the only one with secrets. Right in front of my eyes, my two friends had secrets of their own that I’d been too selfishly caught up in my world to notice.

I feel a sharp pang of guilt and regret. Kyungsoo was right. I was a crappy friend, and there was no way in hell I’d keep up with that track record. Not after how much the two had shown that they’d genuinely cared about me. I wasn’t going to run away from their friendship because I refused to go anywhere. I was staking my claim, and there’d be hell to pay if anyone tried to take them away from me.

“Jongin,” I prompt, and he flinches, knowing that I’m serious when I’ve used his real name to address him.

His eyes dart away—out the window as he focuses on the scenery. “Hm?”

“I care about you, and I care about Kyung. I’ve been a shit friend, and the revelation wasn’t a fun experience, but I’m not going to sit back and watch you take advantage of him. You know, don’t you?”

Jongin bites his lips. “Know what?”

I snap my fingers in front of Kyungsoo’s eyes several times. He doesn’t stir, and his breathing doesn’t ever change. Cocking a brow up, I say, “you can cut the crap now. He won’t wake up. Jongin, I’m not going to sugarcoat this, but that look just now? That’s love, and you’d be absolutely stupid if you hadn’t noticed how he’s felt about you.”

“And what the fuck do you want me to do about that? God, you make it sound like it’s so easy. I mean—that’s all it is to you, right? You get to have the person you want as easy as—“ He snaps his fingers. “Stop acting like a know-it-all because I didn’t ask for your input.”

I shoot him a glare, but I’m not angry because I understand why he’s lashing out.

It takes only a second for him to look apologetic, and he sighs. “That was out of line. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“ He exhales shakily. “I don’t deserve him, Hae. I’m a coward, and all I’ve done is hurt him. He’s watched me kiss other girls, humor them when they’d wanted me to sneak out at night—when Kyung and I were in the _middle_ of phone calls. I’m a dumbass, and he deserves so much better than what I can give him.”

I purse my lips, my expression softening. “Jong,” I begin. “Sweetheart, you know if he truly feels the same way about you—he won’t care about any of that in the end. You have a hell lot of groveling to do. That’s for sure. But if he’s worth it, pursue him. Don’t spend the rest of your life regretting and asking _what if_ questions. Life’s too short.”

The last words felt personal and reflected within me. I hope I was able to convey that to Jongin.

He’s quiet for the rest of the trip, and I could finally see him coming to terms with his thoughts. I think we were both fed up with being at a standstill.


	12. halcyon

**[haeeun]**

The train finally comes to a halt, and the four teachers go down the aisle, reminding us to remain in our seats so they can do a headcount—also, because we were quite a big group so it’d made sense for the other passengers to leave first so we wouldn’t have to be stuck in huge foot traffic.

When I stand after shaking awake a groggy Kyungsoo who blankly stares at the two of us with no single recognition of the real world, the three of us crowd the space between the four seats. Baekhyun passes down the aisle, and he briefly stops, sending me a hidden message when he squeezes my hand.

My heart pounds in my chest, the warmth of his hand lingering. I was so fucked for him, and he wasn’t helping my case.

Biting back a smile, I turn back to poke fun at Kyungsoo’s cowlick to which he swats my hand away in disdain.

Jongin brings it up a notch when he offers to use his spit to smooth it down, and Kyungsoo practically pales because he’s an absolute germaphobe. I burst out laughing, watching Jongin reach for Kyungsoo only to be shoved away mercilessly.

I’m finally able to squeeze through the aisle, and my friends are closely following me—way too close because when Jongin clumsily trips over his legs and falls into me, I fall forward and create an unintentional domino effect.

Lucky for me, Rosé is right in front, and she practically whirls around and screams at me. Lisa has a field day attempting to get her to quiet down when Mr. Müller—in all his seriousness and to this day, I still doubt he has any—sends us his best rendition of a strict schoolyard teacher, but to be honest, it’s like watching Michael Scott attempting to do his job.

In other words, he’s not even trying, but at least, he’s good at breaking fights because Rosé shuts her mouth when he jokes aloud that she’s acting like his four-year-old daughter.

Other than that catastrophe and me nearly killing Kim Jongin for putting me in such a position, we’re finally out of the Eurostar and in the station—an hour after noon time. The robotic voice in the background welcomes us to Bruges in several different languages.

The teachers are disbanding us to get lunch by ourselves as they head to our next hotel for check-in.

To my surprise and frankly, every one of my female classmates, Baekhyun stays behind to chaperone. He’s the least amiable of the teachers, so the boys are sulking that it wasn’t Señora Diaz. Someone should tell them that she’s married; though, I don’t think anyone really cares.

Jisoo and her friends sashay away to do some exploring of their own. The crowd begins to disband, and Baekhyun is more or less stuck with the three of us.

I think I’m the only one aware that he doesn’t mind because when we’re a safe distance from the rest of our classmates, he pulls me into his side, slinging a casual arm over my shoulder.

Kyungsoo and Jongin pretend to gag, but I catch the little envious glare that Kyungsoo secretly sends me when Jongin isn’t looking. I stick my tongue out at him, laughing when Baekhyun blows Kyungsoo a kiss.

“My treat—what do you guys wanna eat?” Baekhyun perks up beside me.

My two friends let out a mutual gasp. “Dude, what have you done to him? He’s _friendly._ ”

I hum, “really? I beg to differ.”

Baekhyun purposely pushes me closer to the stairs when we approach them, but he pulls me back before I trip and crack my head against the steps. I glare at him, my heart still thudding from my near-death experience. He merely shrugs with way too much cheekiness. “Just livin’ up to my namesake,” he projects.

Kyungsoo throws me an unimpressed look as if he’s trying to say _that’s all you can do?_ I silently answer his question with a clueless shrug of my own. I guess we all have our differences in being attracted to problematic guys despite the fact that we’re both unintentionally committing to the same guys respectively.

Jongin laughs delightfully, pulling Kyungsoo to stop blocking the traffic.

Meanwhile, I beam at Baekhyun who sends me another comforting squeeze with his arm still around me.

The four of us settle on a local restaurant that’s known for their comfort food. We decide to grab the croquettes to-go, so we can explore the streets.

When Kyungsoo and Jongin aren’t looking, Baekhyun tugs me into the sea of people, successfully concealing us. I send him a questioning look to which he simply smiles, holding up his index.

My phone buzzes with a text message later from Kyungsoo.

_Bros before hoes, my ass._

_If he hurts you, tell him to watch where he’s sleeping tonight._

I snort and Baekhyun glances at my phone, chuckling. “Duly noted,” he murmurs. “Come on, baby.”

_Baby,_ he said.

To say the least, I did not go unscathed. I choke on my croquette, burning my tongue unceremoniously in the process. “Oh, fuck me,” I mutter.

Baekhyun shakes his head, but I can make out the glint of amusement. “You’re so clumsy. I’ll buy you some water on the way. Let’s go see the city.”

I fight back an embarrassed blush and turn back to my cheeky side. “Are you taking me on a date?”

He hums, “if you want it to be.”

I choke again. “Goddamn it, what happened to you?”

Baekhyun frowns at me. “What are you talking about? I’m being myself.”

I completely stop talking, blinking back at him. He sighs, finally taking it to himself to interlace our fingers and tug me away from annoyed pedestrians. “Being yourself means shooting me glares, rolling your eyes at everything I say, and complete and utter indifference. It’s an understatement to say that I don’t know you. Who are you?”

“You’re losing it,” he deadpans.

“Oh, there you are,” I chirp, laughing when he rolls his eyes. “You’re cute. I kinda like this Baekhyun,” you tell him.

Snorting, he points to my croquette. “Just finish your food, baby.”

“What if I wanna eat you?”

“Stop talking.”

“Yes, sir.”

I gasp when I stare down from the overhang. “We’re riding _that_?”

There’s a canal that winds down the path with beautiful historical homes and like Paris, the trees are decorated in Christmas lights. On the water, there are two to three little red boats with groups of people.

“Surprise.”

I jump excitedly, yelping in surprise when I almost fall off of the cobblestone bridge we’re standing on. Baekhyun’s quick wit saves me once again. No surprise there.

“God—are you _four_?” He questions in pure disdain.

I giggle, looping my arm around his. “Now, that’d be a huge problem if I was, wouldn’t it?”

Baekhyun throws me his familiar dead response, and I stare off into the distance, watching him stand in the queue to purchase tickets.

An adoring smile tugs on the corner of my lips, and it comes to my realization that I’m practically fawning over him and I don’t even care to hide it.

His silvery hair glows from the sun, and he looks like an absolute angel. Sometimes, I can’t even fathom that he’s real. Because a person as beautiful as him can’t be.

Sentimental thoughts pour through me like I’m being drenched by a spout of water. I think about the train. I think about the fact that he’d wanted to die—and god did it hit me. Right there and then.

I hurriedly turn away to wipe off my tears that’s sprung out of nowhere. I’d almost lost him for real, and if I did, I wouldn’t be able to live with the aftermath.

He comes back a few minutes later, and I’d thought I had done a good job hiding my small outburst, but he notices right away. Concerned, he sets me down on the cobblestone parapet, sliding a hand up to my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

I chew on the inside of my lips. “I’m fine.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows knit together. “No, you’re not, and I’m banning you from ever using that word again.”

I laugh, leaning into his chest and inhaling him. “I just missed you, I guess.”

“You saw me less than ten minutes ago,” he mumbles.

“That’s why I told you I was fi—“ I stop, grinning cockily. “I mean—okay.”

This time, he doesn’t even hide his exasperation. “You’re so annoying, Kang.”

But he says that while kissing me so if we take a step back, I definitely won.

Baekhyun and I occupy the two seats near the back. The tour guide blares on about the history of Bruges and whatnot, but I’m honestly distracted by how warm Baekhyun is as I’m wrapped up in his arms.

“You like vanilla, don’t you?” He murmurs.

I reply happily, “it’s my favorite flavor.”

“Why? That’s so boring,” he notes.

I let out an offended huff. “Actually—you’re wrong. The reason why I love vanilla is because my mom used to take me out on ice cream dates when she got off of work.”

“Your mom? I thought you grew up in the fostering system.”

I stare off into the sunset, eyes growing misty. “M’yeah. There was a time—before I met you, but it was after I got away from the last crackhead foster parent I had. Her name was Sandra and she told me she thought I was perfect the minute she saw me. I think other than you—she was the only person who truly cared about seeing me become a person more than my adversities.”

Baekhyun is silent as he strokes my thigh with care, and then he asks, “how much do you know about me?”

I hadn’t expected this question at all, so I’m taken aback. I stutter, “you actually want to know? Are you sure you want to—“ I wave my hands, signifying the unspoken past.

He bends his head, kissing the side of my exposed neck. “One step at a time, right?”

To say the least, I would never be prepared for this. Seeing him attempting to open up to me despite everything. It touches me, and I feel choked up again, but I don’t want to cry because I’ll ruin the moment. I want this to be about him. Not me.

And this also meant that he was serious about pursuing something with me—maybe not a relationship, but at least we weren’t just mindlessly fucking. I could feel a million butterflies in my stomach, stealing my oxygen. God, he’s fucking breathtaking. Then again, I’m sure God had that in mind when he made Byun Baekhyun.

“I know trivial things that I picked up here and there,” I finally answer after a long beat.

“ _Like?_ ”

I squint my eyes, turning a little to meet his eyes. “Is there a catch to this?”

He laughs adoringly, stealing a chaste kiss from me. He’s stealing everything from me as of today. Mostly—my sanity. “No, but maybe I’ll kiss you real good if you humor me.”

I’m sold. Turning back to the front, I snuggle closer to his chest. He squeezes my thigh in his hand. “Well, let’s see—you were really into graphic novels. When Neji died, you boycotted by refusing to buy any more Naruto books, and you also cried like a baby.”

Baekhyun coughs out a laugh. “I actually still have every single volume.”

“Geek,” I quip only for him to jab his fingers in my side, making me squirm. “Bae, you’re gonna make everyone think we’re engaging in public display of sex.”

“Sometimes, I tell myself that I don’t know who you are,” he comments offhandedly.

I chuckle. “Aw, glad it’s not one-sided.”

Baekhyun tickles me harder, and almost everyone turns to stare at us in suspicion, including the tour guide who’s been judging us hard since earlier. I squeak out an apology before murmuring death threats to a very specific person.

“Tell me more,” he prompts, tapping my thigh.

I hum, “you’re allergic to cucumber.”

He sputters out a gasp. “You fucking cheater—you, you _played_ me.”

“Sorry,” I say, but let’s be honest, I’m not really that sorry.

Baekhyun pulls his hands up to wrap them around my shoulder. “Now that I think about it. All of those games—they were hints, weren’t they?”

“Hundred points for Gryffindor.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Not really.”

“I mean—considering all the emotional damage you’ve given me. I’d say a big, fat yes on that.”

I groan, “okay, now you’re just not playing fair.”

His chuckles tickle my ear. “I’m just leveling the playing field, baby girl.”

We let silence fall between us as we enjoy the glistening water around us and the orange hue diffusing with the darkening blue sky.

Unsure, I break the silence. “Bae?”

“Hm?”

“About earlier…are you okay?” He doesn’t answer, so I press on, “I’m worried about you. Are the nightmares still that bad? Do you still want to—you know—hurt yourself?”

Baekhyun’s hand fall limb by his side, and I reach his left hand. Sighing, he leans his head against mine. “Honestly, the anxiety never goes away—but, it’s gotten better because Chanyeol and Miyoung have been there for me. Eventually, I came to the realization that I was really never alone in the first place.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

He laughs incredulously. “You’re not responsible for my actions. I’m the adult, Eun. You don’t have to put the blame on yourself. I didn’t tell you all of that to make you feel bad.”

My lip twitches. “Thanks for trusting me, then.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“And…thank you for saving me that night. You might not remember anything, but that’s one thing you can be proud of,” I tell him, tilting my head to smile at him.

He leans in closer. His breath is inviting, and I cave, taking his bottom lip between mine. Baekhyun doesn’t have to tell me that he’s thankful because his kiss says a million things that words aren’t able to portray.

[2017; past]

I went to prom. Somehow, Joori’s gotten me in a limo with her friends, and they’re cracking open a bottle of booze. I stifle a sigh. Damn it. I was gonna be babysitting?

Surprisingly, I had more fun than I’d expected to. I tried to throw my thoughts of Baekhyun in the trash bin by the entrance of the hotel Joori’s prom was held at.

Her guy friend who supposedly fancies me has his arms around my shoulder, and I just sort of let him because what did I have to lose? Nothing.

As expected, his hands find his way down my dress later when we’re all on the dance floor. I didn’t drink, but I wanted to see if I could get off with someone else other than Baekhyun.

He was bad for me, and he’d made it quite clear that I would never be more than just a friend to him—minus the sex and his deceiving kisses.

Joori’s grinding against her boyfriend. I’d stopped paying any attention to her after she snuck three packs of condoms down my boobs.

She’d looked really satisfied to see me with someone else, and I wondered if she had a personal vendetta against her brother.

An hour or so later, Joori texts me that she’s staying over her boyfriend’s and I’d jokingly texted her the entire script of the Sex ED video my health teacher showed my classmates and me the other day.

The guy—I’d forgotten his name and really, the only thing memorable about him was that he’d been a decent enough kisser—rides back to Baekhyun’s apartment with me.

I didn’t have any intention of inviting him up because as much as I’d loved to piss Baekhyun off, I was going to be humane. I couldn’t say the same for him since he’d settled with the usual cold shoulders again.

He asks if I have his number, and I lie to make him feel better. Maybe I should feel terrible for stringing him along, but I didn’t. I couldn’t think about anything but my bitterness for Baekhyun’s antics.

When I turn to inside, he pulls me back, dropping a hard kiss on my lips. I respond by slipping my arms around his neck, but our kiss is cut short when I hear someone clear their throat.

We break apart, and I frown at the perpetrator. What do you know? Speaking of the devil, Baekhyun is staring down my partner in disregard.

“O-oh, hi,” he stammers. I glance awkwardly between the two of them. He’d looked like he was about to piss his pants, and that was kind of pathetic. “Can I ask who you are?”

Baekhyun answers briskly, “her dad. Now scram.”

I bark out an incredulous laugh as the boy does exactly what Baekhyun tells him to do. But I’m also in disbelief from his behavior. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer—instead, resorts to staring at me.

Sighing, I continue, “what are you even doing out here? It’s midnight.”

He raises his right hand, and sure enough, there was a cigarette lodged between his index and middle finger. I snatch it away, taking a drag. He narrows his eyes. “You’re too young to fuck up your lungs,” he tells me.

I lift a brow at him. “You, a doctor in training, are telling me that when you, yourself, are smoking?”

Baekhyun snorts. “Touché.”

I blow the residue of smoke into his face, and his eyes flare with something unreadable. I squint my eyes hard to make out the emotion, but I can’t. He’s acting strange and unlike his usual open self.

“I don’t like him,” he announces.

“Like you have a say in who I want to hook up with, pops,” I quip, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under my heels.

Baekhyun grasps my chin roughly, tilting my head up. “You—“

I tilt my head, challenge blazing in my eyes. “I, _what?_ Did I do something wrong? You’re aware of the fact that you told me I should experience having a boyfriend, aren’t you?”

His jaw tightens. “Yes,” he bites out. I pause, not expecting him to face me head-on. He’s not running away like always. It’s a pleasant surprise. Actually. No. It’s freezing, and he’s still interrogating me like it’s my fault other people find me attractive. “I’m aware of the hypocrisy. But I said boyfriend, not some lousy hookup to piss me off.”

I scoff. “Oh, come on. Don’t think so highly of yourself. You said it yourself. You don’t want anything with me, so mind your own business. Like I care enough about you to make you jealous.”

He narrows his eyes. “Look into my eyes and tell me that again.”

I clench my fist. Forcing my eyes up, I reiterate my words.

Baekhyun laughs, but it’s missing the humor factor. “I already told you that you aren’t convincing when you lie.” 

And then I lose it because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. “What do you _want_ from me?” I ask, my voice clipped.

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“Can you please get your shit together? If you want to become my boyfriend, either do it or _stop_ acting the part. I don’t want your half-hearted feelings. I didn’t care if you used me a month ago, but right now, I’m tired of your fucking bullshit. I feel constantly played by you. I can’t even fuck someone else without thinking about you every second, and quite frankly, I’m done being your sex toy. You can find someone else willing to open her legs for you because I’m gonna start living my life now.”

I march away from him, jabbing a finger at the elevator button. When it opens, I walk in only to be pinned against the wall by Baekhyun.

“Are you kidding me right—“ My words disappear down my throat when he smashes his lips on mine. All the confusion and anger push up out of me and I kiss him back with the same fervor.

Baekhyun bites down on my lip, drawing blood. I moan when he sucks, reaching to cup my breast. And god, he is so much better than what I’ve had all evening. Drunken kisses from Joori’s classmate.

This isn’t a drunken kiss. It is anything but a mistake. He’s intent on making my knees buckle. “My sister’s gonna fucking kill me,” he murmurs.

I frown. “What?”

“She told me to stop leading you on because she knows I’m an indecisive bastard,” he elaborates.

I pause, lips hovering a hairbreadth away. “You’re such an asshole, and you _know_ it. I’m speechless. Honestly. Just how much can you disappoint me?”

Baekhyun pulls away, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I am. I’m a terrible person, and I take advantage of you. You deserve someone so much better than me.”

I cough out a laugh. “Oh, wonderful. He’s running away again, and here I thought it’d be different.”

“Eun,” he prompts gently. “You’re only seventeen. You have a whole life ahead of you. You’ll meet someone your age. You’ll make plenty of friends. But if you stay here and date me—perspectively speaking, I’d only hold you back.”

I shake my head in contempt. “ _No_ , you listen here, asshole—I may be only seventeen, but my entire life has been nothing but a disappointment. When I was five, I watched a crackhead fall over and foam at the mouth. When I was seven, I delivered meth to men triple my age who looked at me like I was _meat_. And you know what? Everyone I’ve ever loved disappears. I _ruin_ everything I come across. No one wants me because I’m damaged goods. You can’t possibly know what’s good for me. Baekhyun, I don’t have a future. College? I’m not going. I can’t afford it, and frankly, living on the streets is my reality. You—you’re just a passing dream. You’re like candy, Baekhyun. I can save you in my pocket—savor you as long as I want, but after it’s melted, you’re gone. Just like that. I’m not guaranteed anything in life. The odds have been stacked against me the minute my real parents abandoned me. So, go ahead—keep spouting all that virtuous bullshit even though you’re just wasting your breath.”

Baekhyun gives me that look. Yep, that’s the exact look Sungyeol and Woohyun gave me when they found me so beaten and bruised that I had to skip school in fear of teachers calling CPS.

Pure anguish and shock. Because the things that I’ve had to live through, every night praying to a higher power who only gives me more shit to chew on, is unfathomable.

He pulls me into a hug. “Haeeun, why?”

I don’t have an answer for that. I’ve asked myself that a million times over. Why was I born in the first place? No one cared enough to stay, and I’d just settled on being ignorant because it was too painful to come to terms that I’ll always be unwanted.

“You’re never leaving, Kang Haeeun. I’m never letting you go anywhere. Do you hear me?” He murmurs.

I sigh. “You can’t—“

“But I can. Okay? I love you, Eun,” he snaps. I freeze, pulling back to gauge his expression. His words echo in my mind, but I can’t seem to get a grasp on reality. “I love you. I love you so damn much. And I don’t care anymore—fuck, you’re not going anywhere.” I’m stunned. My brain short-circuits, and I stare at him, blinking rapidly. “Say something, _please?_ ” His voice cracks and I hold him, pulling him tightly against me.

I nod over and over again, soaking his shirt with the last of my tears. Byun Baekhyun _wants_ me, and it’s become my reality.


	13. vestigial

**[haeeun]**

“You’re not allowed to sleep with other men,” Baekhyun says.

I scrunch my nose. “But we’re exclusive…”

He sighs. “I meant sharing a bed, idiot.”

“But Kyung and Jong…”

Baekhyun grunts, “they’re an exception.”

“Deal,” I say, slapping his hand.

Kyungsoo and Jongin look exasperated as they glance between the two of us. “Are we gonna start any time soon or are you two gonna take forever debating if any other boys are interested enough in touching her?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes as I gasp, clutching my chest. “You— _wow_. Just so you know, Jongin still wants to screw me.”

Big mistake because Baekhyun’s glance flickers onto Jongin with more than amiable intentions. And Kyungsoo also looks like he wants to kill me.

Jongin jumps to his feet. “Listen—“

I jump out in front of him. “It was a joke! Damn it. Calm down—please.”

And for the first time, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun exchange their camaraderie. At least the two of them no longer have any tension. Though, that came at the risk of almost dying in their hands.

“I think you pulled out all my hair,” I whine, rubbing my sore scalp.

Kyungsoo huffs. “You’re being dramatic.”

Jongin groans, “dude, not cool. I thought we were bros.”

Baekhyun dusts off his hands. “Friends don’t fuck each other.”

I level him a solemn look. “But we did.”

“That’s different.”

Jongin hums, “to be fair, you two weren’t friends. I don’t even think either of you could stand each other, which is amazing to see that you’re both civil right now.”

I grin, lacing my hands in Baekhyun’s. “I’ve been upgraded from a sex toy.”

This makes Baekhyun roll his eyes, and frankly, I think it’s a personality trait at this point. “You’re being dramatic.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No, I think she’s right.”

He sucks in a breath. “I wasn’t that terrible…right?” Baekhyun glances at all of us, gauging our expressions. He looks kind of insecure, and it’s cute.

I bite back a smile. “Do you want the truth?”

Kyungsoo laughs, nudging the latter. “I could list out every shitty thing you’ve committed. Let’s see—putting Hae in detention for stupid reasons just because you wanted to see her, putting Hae in front of her classmates’ crossfire; namely, the three idiots who think you’ve been their property since day one and—“

The tips of Baekhyun’s ears turn red, and I can’t help but snicker all because the impenetrable Byun Baekhyun is currently being flustered by Kyungsoo. I also can’t help but high-five my best friend because he’s done something I haven’t yet.

“Is today _gang up on your teacher day_ or something? I never got the memo,” Baekhyun quips, ducking to hide his face.

I tug him closer to me, beaming. “Bae, that’s actually every day.”

Jongin claps Baekhyun on the back. “Welcome to the club, Baekhyun. You’re officially cool enough to be our friend.”

“You have no say in this matter,” he snaps, and I smile knowingly because he actually means to say _thanks,_ and _you guys are my friends too._

But I don’t have to say that aloud for Jongin and Kyungsoo to hear because they already know as well. Baekhyun’s the biggest tsundere there is.

The second day and last day in Bruges included a tour with the entire foreign language department. Coincidentally, it’s also Christmas day, and this was the first Christmas I was able to spend with my friends.

Fortunately, Jisoo and her friends were smart enough to stay away from me because I was actually in a good place for once. Everything was going well with Baekhyun. Besides, Jisoo is a coward. She really only comes for me when my friends aren’t there.

The first stop is Belfry of Bruges which is a medieval bell tower in all of its former glory. Jongin dared me to race to the top of the tower with him. We bet on Belgian waffles and chocolate. Kyungsoo almost died when Jongin slipped from the steps. If it wasn’t for Baekhyun’s quick wit once again, the three of us would’ve gotten our ass sent back to the States.

It was safe to say that we decided to peruse all of our future bets, and Baekhyun also promised he’d buy me chocolate after, of course, scolding me for acting like I was poor.

I’m sure everything would drop dead if there was a day where he didn’t nag me for something I did—even Kyungsoo’s mastered the countdown before Baekhyun begins lecturing us.

He’s like the dad I never needed. Look, I totally understand daddy kinks, but frankly, I wasn’t even a tad interested. Baekhyun and I were too headstrong. He knows how dogmatic I am when it comes to my independence, and I’ve come to appreciate the fact that he doesn’t try to hold me back—but there are exceptions like when Jongin and I thought it was a good idea to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night.

Baekhyun told me to take off my bathrobe, and I refused which meant he had to resort to manhandling me. Once he’d seen that I wasn’t wearing a drop of clothes, he’d fucked me senselessly until I forgot what I was gonna do in the first place. That was the only method that I allowed.

After we safely made our way down the tower, our group is lead toward Market Square which contains beautiful historic buildings with different hues of brick. There’s a local market set up on the streets, and every square inch is crowded with tourists and locals. Kyungsoo drags me to taste test everything, and I finally get my chocolate. Baekhyun doesn’t complain and silently hands over the bills to the salespeople.

“Thanks, Bae,” I murmur quietly when we’re out of earshot from my classmates.

Baekhyun glances at me, signs of a smile taking its place. But it’s barely there, and I feel special because I’m the only one who gets to see this side of him. I reach for his hand, kissing his knuckles. He chuckles softly in response, and then he’s pushing me and encouraging me to go hang out with my friends who’ve been whining that I was taking too long.

I wave at him before I’m whisked off by an overly excited Kyungsoo who’s ready to drop his entire allowance on every little morsel he sees.

Thank god for Jongin because it’s only him who’s able to stop Kyungsoo from overspending. He does it in a slightly unorthodox way, but hey, as long as it works. Though, I’m not sure what he told Kyungsoo for the latter to grow red in point-blank.

Sehun throws me several friendly smiles and waves when he sees us. Jongin waves him over, and the four of us visit the Historium. Sehun tells us interesting facts—god knows how he learned all of that. This is when I find out that Sehun is an abnormal jock because he seems to know trivial facts that come of nowhere and is way smarter than he projects himself.

The tour continues and we visit the Groeninge Museum, which is known for Belgian plastic arts and 18th and 19th neoclassical paintings by Jan van Eyck and Hugo van der Goes. The highlight of the museum is when Jongin is dared to pose for a picture in front of a nude art piece while puckering his lips on her bosom. To Madame Boudier’s horror, he actually does it.

At this point, Sehun and Jongin solidify their friendship as self-proclaimed twins. Frankly, I don’t think anyone’s more insane than the two of them, and put them together and you get two ticking bombs—double the trouble—that directly results in Madame Boudier her head.

When the rest of us are ushered to the Hansa Quarter, Baekhyun pulls me away from the rest of the crowd into a hidden alleyway. He levels me a look, and it makes my stomach simmer with heat. I realize that there’s this possessiveness in his eyes that I hadn’t received before—at least in this year.

“Did I do something?” I ask out of instinct.

He tugs me close to him into an embrace. “No—just. It’s hard to see you get along with Sehun. He’s a good boy, and I know I shouldn’t be as annoyed as I am, but I can’t help it.”

I bite back a smile. “You’re jealous?”

Baekhyun mutters a sulky _yes_ which makes me lose it. He watches me laugh at him with an unamused expression on his face. I slap at his chest, leaning into his ear. “Honestly. I’m not even a tiny bit interested. All I can think about is how much I’d rather spend the entire day, holding hands with you as the four of us openly hang out without any consequences.”

His jaw tightens, and I reach out to pinch his cheeks.

“Before you say some bullshit about not being able to give me what I deserve—when I told you that we should go along with whatever this is, I was already fully aware of what you can and can’t offer me. I know I’m still a child in your eyes, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with this. I promised you I wouldn’t utter the word _fine,_ but seriously, I’m so fine with this. I don’t need grand gestures. Life is better with you in it,” I insist.

Baekhyun’s eyes dip onto my lips, but he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he murmurs a quiet thanks all while smiling boyishly.

I reach up to kiss him, tugging on the collar of his coat. Our lips meet like it they always do, but this kiss feels different. It feels like little whispers of a Byun Baekhyun I’d never had access to. It’s his softer side. The side I’d only vaguely got to see the night I was ill.

He was changing ever so slowly, and I didn’t see it as a weakness. No, he was finally confronting his issues, and the wheels had begun spinning the day he chose to take me to his place.

I felt nothing but gratefulness; except, thinking back, I should’ve fully expected that it was never as easy as it’d looked. Growing up, happiness was a foreign concept to me because it can get taken away from me in a blink of an eye. Really. I should’ve known how fleeting it’d be.

When I return to the rest of the group, Madame Boudier pulls me aside. She hands me over an envelope. It’s addressed to me, but there isn’t a sender.

“Where did this come from?” I ask, blinking rapidly at her.

She levels me a look. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but it was dropped at the hotel reception in Paris. I’ve held onto it for you, but you were never alone, so I couldn’t find the right time to hand it to you.”

I’m kind of shocked that she’s so friendly because I’ve really given her headache ever since I’ve been in her class. “Thank you for this,” I murmur, darting my eyes.

Madame Boudier claps my back. “It’s nothing, and I know you and your friends joke that I hate you, but you’re my personal favorite, mademoiselle.” I lift my gaze to her in surprise. She laughs, shaking her head in amusement. “I was a lot like you when I was younger. Always thought the world was against me—but I admire your wit. Anyway, I’m always here for you, sweetheart.”

I stand there stunned and silent when she walks away. What in the world just happened? She didn’t kill me. I guess we can all be pleasantly surprised by someone if we looked hard enough.

I glance down at the cream envelop. There’s a golden wax seal on it, and I snap it in half. There’s fancy script on the paper, and it’s in French.

I can make our stanzas, so I assume it’s poetry. I’m not well-versed in literature, so I have to look for Madame again.

She glances over the paper and her eyes are wary when she meets my eyes again. “I can write you a translation when we get back to the hotel.”

I don’t think much of it, so I hand it to her. Then, I leave to find my friends who are as usual messing around. Kyungsoo’s laughing at something Sehun is saying. When the three of them see me, I’m waved over.

“Where’ve you been, pretty?” Sehun asks.

“Around,” I answer vaguely, plopping beside Kyungsoo.

Jongin snorts, throwing me a sly grin. I ignore him and ask them what they were talking about. “We’re planning to ditch the group in Amsterdam. We’re heading to the beach with a shit ton of booze—courtesy of Sehun and me.”

I glance at Kyungsoo who shrugs. “Wait, what? Seriously? What if we get caught?”

Sehun smiles sneakily. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Obviously, I won’t. Are you gonna fill me in or not?”

Madame Boudier pulls me away privately from our group dinner at the hotel. She hands me a sheet of lined paper with the familiar sprawl of her handwriting. I read her writing silently, and I should’ve known clearly that there was something wrong when she was still standing there.

> _Tomorrow, at dawn, in the hour when the countryside becomes white,  
>  I will leave. You see, I know that you are waiting for me.  
> I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain.  
> I cannot stay far from you any longer._
> 
> _I will walk the eyes fixed on my thoughts,  
>  Without seeing anything outside, nor hearing any noise,  
> Alone, unknown, the back curved, the hands crossed,  
> Sad, and the day for me will be like the night._
> 
> _I will not look at the gold of the evening which falls,_  
>  Nor the faraway sails descending towards Harfleur.  
> And when I arrive, I will put on your tomb  
> A green bouquet of holly and flowering heather.

Chills break out on my arm, and I’m trembling. She sends me a look of concern. “I couldn’t help but wonder…do you know this person? At first sight, the poem’s awfully romantic, but it’s extremely eerie.”

It’s signed by _him._ He’s found me, and this poetry—it’d been a warning. I felt sick. I can also feel Madame calling me but her voice is distorted. She grabs my shoulders before I fall onto my knees.

“Haeeun, you need to _breathe_ ,” she enunciates. I stare at her in a daze, my vision spotting. She tells me to breathe again, and I force some air into my lungs. I wince at the loud ringing in my ears, but thanks to her, my vision clears and I’m gasping for air. “Are you okay, dear?”

My eyes dip to the letter in my fingers, not wet from the clamminess of my palms. With shaky hands, I rip apart the letter harshly. I continue ripping despite not being able to tear it anymore. The pieces are microbial, and Madame scrambles to catch all of the falling pieces.

To my surprise, she doesn’t yell at me, but only looks at me with concern. Madame tells me I can head up to bed early, and she’d make up an excuse for me.

She hands me her key card, offering to stay with me. I didn’t know whether to cry or thank her a million times over because she seems to know what I’d needed without me having to tell her any of it.

With more than unsteady legs, I amble toward her room and crash straight onto her bed. I bury myself as far under the covers as I can, but I know even that isn’t going to hide me from him.

He’s found me again, and if I stayed here with the people I loved, I had no doubt he’d take them away one by one—plucking me of my comfort, trapping me under his demands again.

I cry silently—the sobs wracking my body, and everything hits me at once. I had no idea what I was going to do. So, for now, the only solution I could come up with was sleep.

But the nightmares were back and it was then that I knew that I couldn’t escape from reality any longer.


	14. labyrinthine

**[haeeun]**

I was shaken awake in the middle of the night by Madame Boudier when she returned to hand me some food because she’d noticed that I hadn’t eaten much dinner. She told me she’d be staying with Señora Diaz if I’d needed her at all.

“Why aren’t you asking me about it?” I ask her when she turns to leave after patting me.

Smiling softly, she answers, “because I believe when you’re ready to say something, it’ll come out. There’s no point in forcing you to say anything, mon petit chou. Have a good night. Ring me if you don’t feel well enough to tour Amsterdam with the rest of us tomorrow.”

I stare at the to-go bag in my hand. I wonder how she was able to perfectly understand what I was going through without me telling her anything. It makes me think back to the times I’ve defiantly sworn at her, and it pricks me with guilt. She’d probably gotten a sense that there was a reason why I acted the way I did.

I bury my face between my legs, feeling smaller than I’d felt in ages. It was clear that I wasn’t the only person who had secrets. I didn’t know if that made me feel better about myself, but it made me feel less alone.

I was grateful toward Madame and that night, I promised I wouldn’t act up around her again because unlike Tamara, she cared and like Baekhyun, she could see my past my bullshit meter.

I definitely realize my mistake of leaving my phone dead when I join the rest of my classmates for breakfast in the restaurant across the road with Madame. Kyungsoo literally leaps out of his seat and throws his arms around my neck. “Where the _fuck_ were you?” His eyes are red, and Jongin has to pull him slightly back so Kyungsoo doesn’t suffocate me. “You scared me so badly—“ He hiccups. “You just fucking disappeared. You—you can’t just do that!”

Madame steps up to help calm Kyungsoo down. “She wasn’t feeling—“ I shake my head, smiling at her as if to say that I’ve got it.

I pull Jongin and Kyungsoo aside from everyone else’s intrusive stares and whispers. “I stayed in Mme Boudier’s room last night,” I tell the two of them.

Kyungsoo’s eyes harden. “What’s your reason? I thought something had happened to you. What’s your damn excuse, because frankly, I’m tired of you constantly disappearing under the radar every so often.”

Jongin sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Kyung, take a deep breath. And Hae, I can understand that you need space time-to-time, but he’s right, you disappearing on us like that—not cool. He was up pacing the whole night, and I barely got him to calm down.”

I chew on the bottom of my lip, considering my next words carefully. “I’m sorry for putting both of you through my bullshit. I’m not lying when I say you two have become so important to me—but please understand that there are things I’m ready to tell you both. It’s much deeper than just what’s going on—on the outside, for that matter. I’m—“ I exhale shakily. “I’ve been through a lot, and I just want to ask you guys to wait for me because I promise I’ll tell you someday. Just—not now. Okay?”

Kyungsoo sniffles, his anger leaving him at once. “Of course, you—you idiot. I love you so damn much, and I don’t care how long it takes. I’m here for you. As long as you promise you won’t scare me like that ever again— _capiche_?”

I laugh, wrapping my arms around him. “Capace. I love you too, Kyung.”

Jongin joins the hug. “Make that three,” he murmurs in adoration, kissing my the side of my head.

And there was also one more person I had to deal with. I’ve never seen Baekhyun more livid than I’ve seen him now. He’s smarter than Kyungsoo and doesn’t make a scene in front of everyone.

I give him space because I could already sense that a confrontation would mean a fight and that was the last thing we both needed. Me, especially—since I’m on auto-drive after a fitful night of no sleep.

I don’t approach him the entire day, and he doesn’t either, sticking with Mr. Müller who, fortunately, gets a laugh from him every so often. I end up watching him from afar to gauge how he’s doing because, despite everything, I’m still worried about him. He’s told me personal things—deep, dark secrets, and I wasn’t able to give anything in return. For that, I’d felt at odds with him. Not in rage, but more so disappointed in myself. I felt guilty for putting my friends and him included through so much.

I didn’t deserve them in the first place, but they’ve staked the claim, and, now, I can’t even see myself without them anymore.

“You sure took your time, princess,” Baekhyun addresses when the rest of us are taking a quick snack break from our walking tour in Amsterdam. His tone is brash and reveals that he is in no shape for sentiments.

“I thought you’d needed it,” I murmur, avoiding his eyes.

He merely scoffs. “Don’t fucking decide what I need, Kang.”

I sigh, standing up straighter. “Can we be adults about this? Please?”

“You revoked that privilege when you disappeared without a single fucking word. You didn’t even bother to speak to me until now. Sorry, but that says a lot about the type of person you are,” he spats.

My mouth falls open, and I have to grit my teeth to not sock him right in the eye. “And I’m here to apologize for it, but I can throw that out the fucking window with the way you’re treating me right the moment. I don’t deserve this animosity, and you _know_ it. You’re lashing out at me for no reason, Mr. Byun.”

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at me. “No reason?” He growls. “For fuck’s sake, I was worried out of my goddamn mind. You know—a simple text message would’ve been enough, but you’re too fucking prissy for that, aren’t you? You always think you can walk all over people when we show you an ounce of care. _Fuck_ that. Your friends may forgive you and kiss your ass, but I won’t put up with it. You don’t get to _neglect_ my feelings when it’s convenient for you. You can’t just come and go from my life as you like. You and I—we’re similar in a lot of ways, and I didn’t think there’d be a day where I would fucking say this. But I _loathe_ this dynamic. You’re _fucking_ my life up, and until you get your head together, I’m not going to be apart of this _game_.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out because as angry as I am, a part of me knows he’s right. And in the end, I’m a fuck up. I know Baekhyun has massive trust issues, and I’ve just screwed the only good thing in my life. But he’s also right about where our similarities lie. He’s headstrong just as much as I am, and I refuse to let him win. I don’t care if he’s right. With an icy glare, I tear my eyes away and force myself to walk.

It looks like the only answer I have is to do what I’ve always been good at—walking away. Away from my problems.

I’d initially wanted to opt out of Sehun’s mastermind plan of sneaking out to Zandvoort because according to him, it was the best way to end our trip.

Getting completely shit-faced on the beach in the midst of a biting winter.

My reason for coming along was simple. Drinking seemed to be the next best thing after contemplating ways to murder my math teacher. Namely, because I’d get caught and I’m way too young to be in an orange jumpsuit.

Jongin comes along because he’s been getting along with Sehun—also because he’s an avid drinker when he’s allowed to. Kyungsoo painstakingly goes with us despite his better judgment. He threatens to skin us alive if we’re all caught.

I easily dismiss his paranoia because the teachers have decided to go off drinking as well, and if I knew any better, they were going to be in no shape tomorrow to notice.

As expected, it’s freezing. To my utter dismay, Jisoo and her preppy sidekicks decide to make a cameo.

There isn’t a soul on the premise other than the group of stupid teenagers that’s decidedly huddled in a circle.

“I don’t know if I should say this, but I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Myungsoo (or L as we all unanimously dubbed him after his unsuccessful volleyball season aka being constantly benched when we’d needed more players) notes.

Sehun hums, “drinking age is sixteen, unless, of course, you aren’t. By all means, you’re allowed to scurry back, kiddo.”

Jisoo coughs out a laugh, and I roll my eyes at Sehun. “Play nice, Sehunnie,” I tell him with lifted eyebrows.

He spares me a friendly smile before apologizing to L for being an ass. L isn’t discouraged one bit and proceeds to add, “I meant the campfire. It’s prohibited by law, Mr. Valedictorian.”

Jongin whistles. “Oh, shit!”

Kyungsoo ignores all of this as he lingers by my side for warmth. I snuggle under his coat, sticking my tongue out at Jongin when he sends me hidden envious glances.

Jennie sneers, “whatever, goody-two-shoes. Maybe you shouldn’t have come out in the first place if you’re pussying out already. Are you gonna help or what? Unless you want us all to freeze to death.”

Lisa puts in her two cents, earning glares from her friends. “To be fair, the world doesn’t owe us anything. We’re the ones with illegally obtained booze, and it’s two—” She sticks up her fingers to emphasize before enunciating, “in the _morning_.”

L and Lisa exchange amiable looks, and I can already tell who’s hooking up with who after this. Sehun ignores her and manages to light up the circle of logs when his friend, Yixing, returns with a variety of stones for a makeshift fireplace.

Once the fire fully starts, we all let out relieved sighs when the embers radiate warmth. All of us plop down in the sand one by one. I continue to stick by Kyungsoo, but Jongin’s relocated beside Sehun and Yixing.

Kyungsoo sends them his very own pair of jealousy goggles, sulking quietly beside me. I tilt my head, lying on his shoulder. “You okay up there, Kyung?”

He huffs out a half-hearted laugh. “Peachy.”

“Sounds like a lie to me,” I retort.

“Says the frequent liar,” he quips.

I suck in a breath before releasing it in a sheepish laugh. “I love you?”

“Unfortunately, me too.”

I take his hand, interlacing our fingers. “And—you’re in love with Jong, aren’t you? _And_ it’s not platonic.” I make sure to lower my voice, but I’m sure no one hears us above the obnoxious shouts from my peers as they cheer on Sehun downing a bottle of cheap liquor.

Kyungsoo lets out an unsteady breath. “I can’t even remember the last time I wasn’t in _love_ with him.” He pauses to sigh. “I’m so pathetic, aren’t I?”

I squeeze his hand. “You’re honorable. I can’t even fathom committing to a single guy for this long. Actually—how long has it been?”

He answers weakly, “since fifth grade when he accidentally swung his baseball bat at me during gym class.”

I let out a gargled sound of surprise, and he laughs, probably reminiscing the memory.

“It was painful. I was concussed for a whole day, and the dumbass wouldn’t stop apologizing. Funny enough, back in fifth, he was extremely popular. So we didn’t ever cross paths until the unfortunate accident happened. I was the closeted kid—you know, the wallflower. But not in a good way. A lot of our classmates dubbed me as a freak because I had big eyes for an Asian.”

I tsk. “And you still want to be a teacher.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Shut up,” he murmurs, shoving me playfully. “Anyway. My birthday was on the following Sunday and I invited him because my mom wouldn’t stop asking. To my surprise, he came to the party, which was anticlimactic in itself because to everyone’s knowledge, I had no friends. Yet, Jongin and I clicked when he told me it was audacious that I hadn’t seen Star Wars and proceeded to marathon the entire movie franchise with me. After that, he sort of just stood up for me in class and that’s where it all began.”

I awe, sitting up to throw my arms around his neck. “That’s an adorable meet-cute. What the hell? You’re so fucking cute. Gosh. Are you real?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I’m a projection of Jesus Christ.”

Kyungsoo and I burst out laughing, and I don’t know why it was necessary for Jisoo to open her big mouth to ruin the moment. She coughs out a very loud and unnecessary _slut_ that garners the attention of everyone.

Sehun squints his eyes at her, and Jongin is prepared to jump to my defense. But I don’t need their help because I’m already leveling a smile at her. “And for what reasons did you think it was necessary to slutshame me?”

Jisoo crosses her arms with her own cocky grin. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re all over Kyungsoo one minute and the next, you’re all over Jongin. Do they know of your pre-existing STDs? Because you should let them know. It’s only fair.”

I laugh haughtily. “You jealous, sweetheart? Maybe you should take your own advice and quit sleeping with the whole football team. Their only goal is getting between your legs and here’s a secret: none of them actually has plans to propose.”

She sneers, “oh, _please_. I know you have a massive crush on Mr. Byun. Come for me when you’ve gotten more than a flat out rejection.”

I ground my jaw because Baekhyun is still a sore topic, and it didn’t make it any easier to hold back my anger when I remembered that they’d made out. “You pesky bitch—“ I’m immediately restrained by Kyungsoo.

“Jisoo,” Kyungsoo prompts, eyes dead on hers. He sounds eerily calm, and it makes her demeanor crack a tiny bit. I shut my mouth because an angry Kyungsoo is someone not to be messed with. “First of all, I’m _gay_.”

My jaw drops and everyone on this entire beach has lost the basic function to speak including me as I attempt to sputter _something_. It wasn’t fair that he forcibly came out in front of our peers for the sake of defending me. I felt even shittier, and how was that possible after being told off by Baekhyun?

“If your brain worked properly, you would see that the three of us are simply friends. _Platonic_. Should I spell that out for you? No? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Usually, I prefer to stay out of the limelight when it comes to high school drama because let’s be honest. It’s trivial and no one will remember a bit of it when we’re walking across that stage, but, _this_ , it’s unacceptable. Who decided you were queen bee? Because at least with Sehun, he has a functioning IQ. Word of advice. Stop spieling mindless crap just because you’re jealous that you’re not even half as authentic. The next time I hear another word of animosity toward my best friend, you better hope you’re already buried in the ground, _honey_. Now, take a damn hike.”

Jongin and I open and close our mouths, forgetting that we can make audible sounds. Our brain mutually short-circuits at the same time. And it’s because I’ve never heard Kyungsoo resort to this level. He’s the king of threats, but Jongin and I know well that he’s mostly joking half the time. _This—_ none of it sounded like he was joking.

Jisoo shoots up from the ground and storms off. Her friends shoot Kyungsoo murderous glares that frankly, the latter looks like he could give less of a shit about before running after her.

Sehun claps his hand. “Well, fuck me. If I was gay, I’d definitely ask you to screw me.”

This gets several laughs, and the tense atmosphere shatters. Jongin abandons post and sits close to us. He doesn’t stop eyeing Kyungsoo with concern.

“I’m fine,” he deadpans.

I wrinkle my face. “You came out,” I say, still not believing it just happened.

Jongin nods stiffly. “I—what the hell just happened?”

Kyungsoo glances between the two of us with nonchalance. “Exactly what just happened. I’m gay and I gave Jisoo a run for her money.”

I’m the first to fall into a fit of laughter, and Jongin also dies laughing when he falls on his back. Kyungsoo’s lip twitches but in no way does he laugh as hard as we do.

I think I’m just suffering from a serious case of shock because if that didn’t just solidify a permanent friendship between the three of us, my name isn’t Kang Haeeun.

When I wake up the next morning albeit being repeatedly slapped by someone, I feel like death. Which begs the question. What the hell did I do last night?”

I have to pry my eyes open because that’s how exhausted I was. When I do, a wave of queasiness greets my stomach, and I keel over retching.

“Oh, fuck. Don’t vomit on me—please. Not again.”

I freeze. Right. There was someone else in the room with me, which begs the next question. Where in the world was I?

“You’re in my room,” the person answers.

Did I say that aloud?

“Yes, and Madame’s gonna hunt for blood if we don’t get our ass down to the lobby with our shit together.”

I force myself up, pushing down the second wave of nausea begging to end me. “Good point,” I choke out. “Fuck, did I sleep with you?”

Sehun and I exchange exhausted looks. “I was turned off the minute you hurled out your entire gastrointestinal organs on my bare chest.”

I let out a sigh of relief, but I feel guilty at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

He tosses me a casual smile. “Don’t be. I’m sure I’d be more than happy to screw you if you hadn’t given me an entire life story on banging our math teacher.”

I sputter out a gasp. “ _What?_ ” Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He stands, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t sweat it, pretty. I wasn’t really that interested in the first place.”

My jaw drops. “How can you be so _casual_? Did I tell anyone else?”

Sehun laughs. “No one was interested in anything after seeing us make out. We gave them enough porn for a lifetime.”

I groan, “shit. Jisoo’s gonna wring my body like a rag after she drains my entire blood supply.”

He clucks his tongue. “After last night? I doubt it. Besides, we’re friends. I won’t let her do you dirty anymore.”

I’d probably be more grateful that he’s being so kind if my head didn’t feel like I was slamming it against the wall every few seconds.

Sehun tosses me a hoodie slung over the armchair across the room. I tug it on gratefully. At least I didn’t have to accidentally streak everyone when I had to rush back to my room to pack all of my things.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” I manage after getting to my feet.

He ruffles my hair. “Your secret’s safe with me. Now, should we shower together to save time because you smell like a dumpster?”

I roll my eyes, pushing at him. “You smell like Jack Daniels every time we partner up in APES, jackass. Talk to me when you’re not sweating from all the alcohol you’re chugging.”

Sehun beams. “Touché.”

Unfortunately for him, I don’t take his offer and instead stumble into my hotel room that comes with two equally wasted friends who are hectically throwing every article of clothing in their suitcases.

I greet them weakly and drown myself in a hot shower. After thirty minutes, the three of us make it down to the lobby in one piece.

Madame Boudier doesn’t even look pissed. I think she’s more grateful that we haven’t all collapsed from some form of alcohol poisoning.

She ushers all of us toward the bus and we’re finally en route to the airport. Surprisingly, we make it on the brink of time, and the blood returns to every single person’s face.

Sehun’s decided to proclaim himself as our new buddy, so he steals the seat beside me in the middle aisle. Jongin and Kyungsoo have no complaints as they’re all too impressed that Sehun’s not dying from a hangover.

The boy, ironically, forces us to drink an entire bottle of water and feeds us saltine crackers.

I haven’t seen Baekhyun all morning, and to be honest, I didn’t care because I was still pissed at him.

By the time we transfer flights, I’m feeling a tad bit better. I had a feeling all of that would go to shit soon the minute I see him.

_Oh_. How right I was.

I believe he’s seen the videos of Sehun and I going at it. The wind is frosty, and it felt like it was telling me to leave before things escalated but like the idiot I’d been, I stayed.

Baekhyun maintains a calm composure when he sees all of my classmates off—including the other teachers. He must know I’m lingering nearby because he hasn’t attempted to look for me at all, which means he’s definitely pretending not to see me.

Finally, the last person leaves and the two of us are alone. Baekhyun stays in his spot, tapping on his phone. I quietly slip beside him, not knowing what to expect.

“Bae?” I ask hopefully.

Baekhyun doesn’t even bat an eye. Okay, he’s definitely furious.

“Mr. Byun?” I attempt, reaching out to touch his arm.

Finally, he meets my eyes, but it makes me immediately drop my hands. “It’s time for you to leave, Kang.”

I can’t decide whether his tone or the wind is harsher. “I was hoping to clear the air before school,” I tell him earnestly. “We tried—and it didn’t work out, so maybe we can just—“

He narrows his eyes at me. “ _We tried?_ I didn’t get the memo, Kang. You screwed some other guy after I confronted you. Did you expect me to just let it go?”

I exhale shakily. It wasn’t his business what went on between Sehun and I. I shouldn’t have to vouch for myself. “I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun barks out a laugh. “But you’re not. The only other thing you’re good at with the exception of running away from your problems is _lying.”_

He’s right. I’m a coward. I have so many problems that I choose not to confront, but it angers me that he’s only nitpicking as he sees. What about the fact that I can hardly trust him? What about the fact that he’s someone I barely know anymore? He couldn’t just expect me to lay it all out there for him to trample over me. It was only a matter of time before I lost everything, and I’d be damned to be screwed over _again._

“Don’t play the fucking victim card on me, Baekhyun. I haven’t forgiven you for making out with my fellow classmate yet because one; you haven’t even bothered to give me an explanation. I can only take it as I see it because Jisoo is shameless. And don’t you dare try to invalidate my hurt for jealousy. Let me remind you that the reason you’re being a total jackass is because _you_ —you’re fucking jealous.”

He grounds his jaw. “I’m not going to listen to this.”

I throw my hands up. “Well, what do you know? I was fucking right for once. I still cannot trust you. Just take a look at yourself right now. You lash out at me for every little thing. I feel like I’m being constantly scrutinized for every course of action I take. What do you have to offer anyway? What’s in it for me? Because frankly, I see nothing. You treat me like _crap._ And at the end of the day, the small sparks I feel isn’t enough to make up for the times you’ve degraded me. I don’t care anymore. You can go fuck yourself.”


	15. inure

**[haeeun]**

I immediately come to the realization that walking home wasn’t a good idea when I had another sixteen miles to go—especially while caught in the middle of an icy sleet of rain.

It only took ten minutes for me to become completely soaked, and how did I get into this catastrophe you ask?

It all began this morning when Kyungsoo as usual lectured me on punctuality and the responsibility of a high school student. I think he said it included actually attending class and doing my homework. I did all of my homework, and I attended class after Christmas break ended.

However, I’d skipped Baekhyun’s class which is why Kyungsoo even showed his concern through trying to talk me out of whatever it is I was planning.

To his dismay and mine, I wasn’t planning anything. I was just running away as usual. Leaving his issue somewhere away from me and forgetting to deal with it until I absolutely had to.

So Jongin, who is strangely always beside Kyungsoo now, gave me the brilliant idea of dropping Baekhyun’s class.

So I agreed semi-excitedly—the other half was disappointment that I’d have to see him to drop his class but I told myself it’d only be a few minutes out of an entire lifetime.

Thinking back, I really should’ve declined Jongin when he offered to take me to school.

Anyway, I waited until lunch break and the counselor had been all too concerned and asked me a million questions regarding my decision. In the end, she’d painstakingly thrusted the paper my way and handed me another sheet with classes that had only been quarter classes which meant for the fourth quarter, I’d have an off block.

Baekhyun is in his classroom, but he’s not doing what I’d expected him to. He looks completely exhausted, propped in the back on his desk. He’s sleeping. There’s a crinkle between his brows, and upon seeing him like this, my expression softens.

I walk quietly toward him, hovering over to see more of him. Reaching out, I rub the space between his eyebrows until it evens out.

He jolts awake, tilting his head to up see me. Baekhyun frowns, opening his mouth to ask me a question, but I’m stuck staring at him. He closes his mouth and retaliates with a stare of his own. How stupid. We still can’t figure each other out.

Breaking eye contact, I push the form in his direction and then I spin on my heel, leaving him—hopefully permanently.

I guess seeing him again set something off in me. I felt less invincible than I should’ve. And it was then when I decided I wanted to leave. It didn’t help that when I opened my locker, I got another glimpse of my time running out.

Everything is normal. My books are haphazardly shoved in there, but there’s a piece of paper placed neatly on top of the entire mess. And I’m finally terrified. Because all of this? It’s elaborate. Someone has the key to my locker—and that someone could be him. He has access to the things in my life.

I let out a shaky breath, crumpling the note and hiding it before Kyungsoo and Jongin can spare a glance.

I’d like to say that I’m great at controlling my expression, so I’m not surprised when the two of them don’t ask me. I tell them to go to class and I’ll join them after I go to the restroom.

I walk down the hallway—past the restrooms. I’m aware that I’ve gone past the threshold of Kyungsoo’s patience when he finds out that I lied again.

Too bad I don’t even spare a last glance when I walk out of there. It hadn’t rained in the beginning. The sky had looked gloomy. Sure. But this was normal. I thought I’d be spared until I’d gotten home.

To my luck, Baekhyun decides to appear at the time of my vulnerability. I can’t even count the times fate has tried this shit on me, and frankly, I’m tired of it.

“I’m not getting in the car,” I tell him as matter of fact.

Baekhyun doesn’t even look angry or irritated. He just stares at me with that strange look that I can never figure out. “If you’re worried about anyone seeing, they’re all long gone.”

I snort. “If I was worried, I’d never havr slept with you.”

The heavens choose the perfect time to throw a couple of lightning streaks in the sky and not even a minute later does thunder follow. This meant I was definitely going to be fried to bits if I didn’t get into his car.

I didn’t even know which higher power to curse at. Swallowing my pride, I pull open the door and lower myself on the seat.

If he’s triumphant, thank fuck he doesn’t show it. Because I couldn’t have handled the embarrassment.

And somewhere in the midst of the said embarrassment, I fell asleep. It looks like those nights of my brain nagging me which in turn meant I was unable to sleep more than three hours finally caught up to me.

I don’t wake up in his car. I’ve somehow transported from completely soaked to dry. I don’t know whether to hate that he cares about my wellbeing or appreciate him for it. I push myself out of his bed and drowsily search his apartment for any piece of him. Mainly, I was interested in finding him because I didn’t know what we were doing.

Was this another game? Frankly, I’m tired of playing cat and mouse with him. I didn’t even know what I was going to say to him. It definitely wasn’t going to be “I miss you.” No, I’m not that much of an idiot even though inside, I was _that_ much of an idiot. Even if I didn’t clarify it with my mouth, I’d still felt it. In every cell.

“Should you be smoking, Dr. Byun?” I ask, shooting him a curious look.

Baekhyun turns to me with a deprecating smile. “Probably not.”

I let out a small laugh, moving to stand beside him on the balcony. It’s cold as fuck, and he’s wearing a thin t-shirt. Then again, so am I. “Do you always do the opposite of what’s right?”

He lifts a brow, but I have a feeling he knows what I’m trying to say. “What do you mean?”

I snatch the cigarette in his hand and take a long drag. The nicotine buzz doesn’t do much for my frayed nerves. He snatches it back and puts it out using his heel. “Me being here. What am I doing here?”

Baekhyun doesn’t look at me. “Sometimes what’s right doesn’t feel right.”

I’m surprised I’m not the only one lost. I can’t even understand our dynamic anymore. The next best thing was just going with it. I stand closer to him, dragging my hands up his chest and around his shoulders. “So you want me?”

He scoffs. “Well, that’s certainly one way you can look at it.”

“Baekhyun, you can’t solve everything with sex.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Eun. What do you think we’ve been doing this entire fucking time?”

I choose not to punch him even though I feel a strong urge to. He wasn’t wrong. “I don’t want this anymore. You confuse me.”

“And you don’t?” He asks with a condescending tone, but as quick as it’d come out, he retreats back to resignation. “Sorry, force of habit.”

I don’t know why I laugh, but I do. “God, we’re so fucking bad for each other.” And the next thing that leaves my mouth I immediately want to take back. “But I want you, Byun Baekhyun. You’re always so close yet so far. I don’t get my obsession with men I can’t have.”

He wordlessly pulls me into him, and I respond with wrapping my hands tighter around him. “I’m sorry for what I said to you,” he whispers after a long beat. “You were right about most of it. I was lashing out.”

“What changed?”

“The thought of you not being around anymore.”

I feel myself stir. The part of myself that’s been dormant from our fight. “You were fine without me in the past two years.”

“And what about you?”

I tsk. “It isn’t about me.”

“Of course, it is. You started all of this.”

I pull back to gauge his expression. “Then answer this question. Why do you keep running away?”

“I think you should answer that, baby.”

I glare at him the best I can, but there’s not a bit of anger in me. “I have my reasons.”

This is when he thrusts a slip of paper onto my palm. “Is this one of it?”

I couldn’t find a way out of this. It was done. This was the final point. If he was going to leave then so be it. But I still wanted to know his side first. “I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

Baekhyun relents, but it’s hesitant. I’m still glad he’s the first to drop his guard. “I was afraid of us.”

“I was too,” I offer weakly.

He shakes his head. “As much as it’d felt like the entire world was moving in its place again when I was beside you, I couldn’t stop feeling _that_ fear. The thought that you’re only around because I used to be a fraction of what he was. I couldn’t completely ignore the possibility that you’ll move on to someone better once you realize that I can never be him.”

Everything finally clicked. The hesitation. Why he’d gotten defensive at every little thing. He was just doing what was natural. In the situation of fight or flight, it’d been both for him. I couldn’t find a reason to blame him for his actions anymore. After all, I hadn’t been very apparent with him. I realized that I was also in the wrong. I couldn’t keep relying on him simply because he was stronger than me. It wasn’t true.

It was never about being strong or weak. Someone had to break out of his shell, and that person has to be me. “Bae,” I prompt, my voice shaky.

He hasn’t looked away, and as much as I want to break eye contact out of fear, I will myself not to move.

“I love you,” I tell him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Baekhyun blinks at me, seemingly unable to comprehend what should’ve been three simple words. “What?” His voice is unsteady, and I feel a tiny bit better that I’m not the only one pissing my pants.

“I loved you—I did. So much so in the past that I went against better judgment. I knew I shouldn’t have started this with you. I knew better. I’m not immune to you. I never was. Funny that what should’ve been a short fling became more for me, and I became scared of the consequences, Bae. I spent my whole life running away from my feelings. Responsibility?” I let out a weak deprecating laugh. “What’s that?” I shake my head bitterly. “Things _need_ to change. I need us to change. I can’t keep up with this facade, and leaving isn’t an option anymore. Now, it’s your turn. Do you believe me?”

His gaze is nebulous though I can see a tiny hint of certainty in them. Baekhyun blinks once and his expression shifts into something I’m far too familiar with. It’s the same expression he used to secretly give me when he thought Joori hadn’t been looking or when I’d shoot him a dimpled smile in public and he has to pretend that he didn’t just melt inside.

I’m aware he can’t remember who he used to be, but he doesn’t have to. Baekhyun will always be himself fundamentally. I loved him then, and I love him now. The man who pretends that I don’t make his heart flutter at school. The man who engages in childish banter with me for the hell of it. I’m so fucking certain I’ll never meet someone so perfect for me, and I’m done letting fear hold me back.

Baekhyun sucks at holding back his smile because I can see the glimmer of joy and relief in his eyes. Instead of waiting for his response, I stand on my tip toe and kiss the hell out of him. Thankfully, he kisses me back with the same intensity.

“Promise not to run when I tell you everything?” I ask, staring carefully at him.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I’m not you, wise girl.”

I laugh, but something in my gut tells me that he won’t be smiling for long after he hears my story.

When I was ten, I met Sandra. She was probably the first person who looked at me like I was an individual. Not just some poor orphan who’s been tossed around in a fucked up system.

I hadn’t been used to being treated humanely so it wasn’t exactly rocket science to say that I’d been terrified. For the first month, I’d stay in the vicinity of my room and refuse her kindness.

I just couldn’t fathom that someone could offer me genuine kindness without wanting something in return—albeit drugs or selling me for money.

But she tried her utmost hardest and it eventually broke me down. It was scary. Honestly. She was the first person I willingly let in.

And boy, did I not regret a single moment. Sandra pulled a legendary move. Ditching one of her biggest modeling gig for a stupid show-and-tell. Still. It worked.

Up until I turned fifteen, she’d been a great mom. She’d been a workaholic but she still found time to call me every night.

The older I got, I started becoming self-conscious of all the attention she gave me. Sandra devoted all of her free time to spend it with me and it pegged the question as to why, one of the most eligible top models, was still single.

My question didn’t go unanswered for long because she finally met someone. Jun. He could charm anyone, and Mom hadn’t been immune to it.

Jun was clean-cut and traditionally handsome. He knew what to say. He knew how to make people grow attuned to him. In a crowd of people, he stood out amongst them with his overwhelming charisma.

And I’m not gonna lie. He really got me. His true colors didn’t show until Mom had to leave for Paris Fashion Week.

Sandra made her living as a model, and when she told me that Jun ran a bakery for a living. I’d thought that was neat.

He hadn’t told her the whole truth.

When Sandra left, she didn’t want me to stay home alone so she asked Jun to stay with me. He agreed easily and even offered to let me stay at his bakery after school so I didn’t have to be alone.

I just wished I’d seen the signs beforehand.


	16. verisimilitude

**[haeeun]**

Jun was good at making me blind to the outside world. He made me feel useful. Mom did too, but Jun had a way with everything. He knew the exact words to say. He knew when I’d been bothered.

He was too good. Too good that he didn’t begin to show his world to me until Mom was sick on her deathbed.

It was sudden. The cancer. Her skin stopped glowing after a few treatments. It went for half a year. My stomach would twist as if there’d been actual physical hands wringing my insides.

I hated what it did to her. Her smile was weak. She was no longer recognizable. Her already heap of skin and bones, the result of her lifelong modeling career, became frail. She couldn’t walk anymore without shaking or apologizing when she asked me to take a break from our daily walks around the hospital grounds.

Jun was good at being supportive. I couldn’t even tell that he was pretending when he kissed her softly on her dainty lips, muttering a quiet prayer to her wellness.

When she’d been transferred to the ICU for acute pneumonia, he sat beside her for hours until the nurses kicked him out.

“I can’t make the next shipments,” Jun says into his phone.

Mom was finally awake after a full day of rest, and I’d been looking for him for a while now. Not wanting to interrupt his private information, I stay quiet from a generous distance away from him.

He hasn’t noticed me and continues to speak casually. My heart pounds in fear when I hear his voice drop dangerously low. I’d never heard him take on that tone. Not with Mom. Not with me. Never. “She’s still alive.”

It didn’t sound like he was celebratory. It sounded like hatred and disgust. I stilled, backing further away and hiding behind the nearest building.

“No, asshole. I’ll have possession of the girl soon. I just need her mom to die. She’s more resilient than a fucking virus.”

I sink onto my feet, clutching my mouth and feeling my lunch bubble inside my stomach and threaten to spill out and all over me.

I couldn't tell Mom about what I’d heard. I spent the next two days examining him closely, and he was too perfect. It was too seamless of a transition that I couldn’t recognize the hatred—the darkness in his voice that day.

I wanted to tell myself that it was all a fluke and that I’d misheard.

I hate to tell you that none of it was a mistake.

Sandra lasted a month. The cancer cells had already metastasized to her liver from her breast, and at that point, she’d been in too much pain to hold on. I spent the next week crying. Jun let me skip school. He didn’t prod. Didn’t talk about what would happen after. He just let me grieve.

One fateful day, he’d picked me up from school after speaking to the principal about what had happened. The principal allowed me to take a month off from school for the extenuating circumstances. Rather than being relieved, I couldn’t help but feel goosebumps prick at my skin from the way Jun’s eyes danced with subdued joy.

It’d been out of nowhere. I couldn’t trace the location of this happiness.

He had to stop by his place to grab a few things. I’d been to his place a few times with Mom in the past. He had the habit of leaving his wallet. Mom said he was so perfect sometimes that she forgot he was human.

I wandered in his place and something on the floor makes me trip. I fall forward and onto my knees before I can catch myself midair. My knees skin. I wince at the injury, seeing that it was worst than initial thought.

“You okay, P?”

_P._ It was short for Petunia. He called me that because he thought I’d been too innocent for the world. He said he was afraid if I went into the real world, I’d shrivel up like a flower in the winter. He didn’t really know me. Jun never really tried to get to know me above surface level.

“Yeah, “ I grumble, pushing myself up into a sitting position. I dust my hands, frowning closely at the blood stains on the floor. Sighing, I move to get up to find something to clean it up, but upon further inspection, the blood stains speckle the floor up to several feet from where I’ve fallen.

It doesn’t look fresh either. I didn’t notice it at first simply because it’d been too minuscule to distinguish from the cherry red wood floors.

I recognize the splatter pattern, my gut churning as I came to the worst conclusion. The bad feeling of that day washes over me, and I swallow nervously.

I pull my shirt up, examining the scaly patch of an old scar from a bruise. I’d been hit in the same spot for a couple months straight just before Sandra had gotten me out of the fostering system. My most recent one had been a sadist. He loved watching me beg and writhe in pain to just end my life.

His wife was worst. She spat in my face—called me a home wrecker and a whore for stealing her husband’s attention. She laughed every time she saw my newly colored bruises.

The blood splatters were a result of being beaten. When the skin was continuously abused, it split open.

I remembered keeling over and being dragged on my stomach. It was the same.

Before I think of anything—a way to get me out of this, Jun is kneeling in front of me. His dark raven hair falling over his eyes as he watches me. “Does it hurt?”

He touches the spot below the wound lightly. I shake my head, and then, he squeezes. Tight and hard. My heart lurches inside my chest, tripping into my esophagus. I jerk away from years of instincts.

“Does it hurt, P?” He asks again, the hint of a smile ghosting at his lips.

[2019-2020; present]

Baekhyun had never once let me stayed over his place. Said it was too much of a hassle if a student caught me coming out of his apartment with the same clothes they’d seen me wear from school the previous day. I always thought it was laughable, seeing how he had no problems with fucking me roughly against the door of his classroom.

Now, it’d been my worst nightmare. The first night of me staying at his place was ruined. Utterly ruined by the truth.

Telling him was the easy part. The aftermath—the silence—that was fucking unbearable. I could hear the uncomfortable trip of my pulse. It was unfamiliar as I hadn’t been scared of anything in ages. Okay, fine. Maybe a little bit when I had to admit to my feelings or was it when I told him that I loved him?

The warm atmosphere in the beginning had slowly dissipated. Instead, the cold sunk in—creeped under my skin and tingled. My chest felt weak, pinching at random intervals when I tell him the short version of my horrors.

I told him about Jun. Even now, I can still see the flash of anger in his eyes. It was scary. Raw and intense like he could kill just about anybody.

Now, I lay an arm’s length away from him, and he makes no effort to touch me. Baekhyun’s mad. Really mad. It isn’t his usual burst of anger where he easily takes it out on me by being petty.

“Are you awake?” I ask quietly, my brain making fuzzy images from staring at the pitch black ceiling for a prolonged period of time.

If he is, he doesn’t answer. I sigh, giving up for now. Turning on my side, I face the opposite wall from him. I habitually scrunch up into a fetal position. My safest position. I don’t notice that I’ve shifted so far onto the corner of the bed until I’m already falling toward the ground.

I squeak quietly, half from pain and half from surprise. I’d skinned my knee. The familiar pain is dulled by the rush of fearful memories barraging inside my head without permission.

I bite my lip, surprised I still remembered what to do to hide my increasingly rapid breathing.

Closing my eyes tightly, I fist both hands, counting backward from a hundred in my head.

When I open them, the lights are turned on, and Baekhyun is propped in front of me. I’d missed the sound of his movements through the flash of panic. I duck my head away, cheeks flaming that he’d seen me in my vulnerable state yet again.

His eyes offer quiet consolation. “What do you want me to do for you?” He asks, staying a safe distance away. I realize that he’s respecting my space. I feel a tinge of pain, imagining a scared Baekhyun in the same position as me. Alone. Powerless.

He’d known exactly what to do, and it hurt even more because it was from personal experience.

The hilt of my knuckles are white from gripping too hard. He looks at me like he wants to grab them and put them out of their misery.

I let out a long overdue breath. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

I can see confusion travel across his features, and then understanding and disbelief following closely behind. “Why—“ He releases a held breath. “Eun, your choices are unreasonable, but in no way do I have a right to be mad at you.”

I wince. “And don’t baby me—I don’t want—“

“Who says I was babying you?”

I blink at him. “You didn’t touch me at all. You didn’t raise your voice at me, and you—“

Baekhyun laughs. “I really can’t get anything past you, can I?”

My shoulders relax. “You’re angry. I know you’re trying to hold back from screaming at me.”

He shakes his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at all the shit life’s given you. _And_ it fucking drives me insane that I can’t do anything for you other than offer you my presence. It’s fucked up, and even now, your safety is being threatened; yet, you won’t get the police involved?”

“Baekhyun,” I murmur weakly.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him short.

“Remember when you told me your story? In the bathroom?”

He nods hesitantly.

“I need you to do the same. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from. I’m afraid of him. I’ve never stopped. I wasn’t just running from you. I was trying to escape the life I had before you. I know I told you I was done running, but I’m—I’m not ready to take this any further. I’m already so _tired_. I’m emotionally drained, and I’m sad, Baekhyun. I’d missed you so badly, and yet—“ My breath catches. “—you won’t even touch me. That’s driving _me_ insane.”

Baekhyun’s face looks like it’s seconds away from crumpling. “I didn’t know—shit. I’m sorry. I—“

He stops, eyes falling onto my hands. With determination, he encases my fingers, intertwining us and slowing the rate of my trembling. The trembling I didn’t even know was occurring.

I want to sigh in relief when he tentatively pulls me toward him, letting me melt into his soft warmth. I close my eyes. Cinnamon and nutmeg. Two years had nothing on the unmistakable way in which our bodies were simply conditioned for each other. I naturally curved and molded into him, feeling his hands instinctively cradle the nape of my neck.

“What do you want to do, Eun?” He asks. “What can I give you to make this a little more bearable?”

I pull back enough to meet his eyes. “How about we start with bandaging my knee?”

I’m positively sure I can see Baekhyun roll his eyes, but with my question, things clicked back into gear.

“Do you want a nice boyfriend who’ll buy you things to make you feel better, or a boyfriend who’ll risk getting fired from his job to be with you all day?”

I don’t do a good job of hiding the coy smile. “I want…the second one.”

Baekhyun smiles angelically, leaning in to kiss the corner of my lips. I wish he was real because before I know it, my sweet dream melts away at the sound of the harsh bell. I jerk awake, almost falling out my seat.

Kyungsoo sends me a side glance as Jongin attempts to conceal his laugh. “I hope there’s a higher power on your side because at this rate, you’re looking at selling your body for sex to make rent.”

I yawn as obnoxiously as possible. “Wow,” I deadpan. “I can feel love radiating all the way from over here. Say that again, but, this time, try a less misogynistic approach, asshole.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I meant to say leeching off of a stupidly wealthy dude who has an obsession with sugar babies.”

I grin. “That’s so much better.”

Jongin offers us both weird looks, and then he glances from across the room to Baekhyun who is speaking to another student. “I don’t see what the difference is. Isn’t Pedobear essentially doing the same?”

If you’re wondering, Pedobear is codename for Baekhyun. We had to come up with something amidst a crisis happening and it couldn’t wait because we had to talk about him and his very inappropriate relationship with me.

For better or worse, I didn’t come up with it. Jongin did, and despite the wrinkle of Kyungsoo’s face, it caught on.

I snort. “Oh, _please_. He’s checking off all the checkboxes except for showing love and affection, gifting extravagant gifts, and oh—love this one, not being a stuck up little—“

Baekhyun shuts his door unceremoniously. “Don’t mind me. Continue your conversation as if I’m not here.”

Kyungsoo starts, “also, how about finding a suitable sugar daddy who doesn’t have a slightly jail-inducing alias?”

Baekhyun scowls at this and shoots all of us an irritated look. “Can you three leave or something?”

Jongin smiles. “Wait. You’re kicking out Hae-Bear?”

I groan, “what the fuck, Jong? I’m not twelve.”

Kyungsoo grins immediately. “But it matches. Pedobear. Hae-Bear?”

“All of you. Get out. Now,” Baekhyun demands, hands on hips.

I let out a low hiss, sending my two friends wary looks. They wave at me with sly grins as if they’d already known what was going to go on. I was with them on this.

I inch closer to him. “Are you doing okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles, eyes drifting away from me.

I sigh. “Come on, Bae. I told you my deepest, darkest secrets. No more secrets, please?”

Baekhyun’s lips jut out cutely as he pouts. “That’s not fair.”

I tsk. “Well, you asked and you received, so spill.”

“Jisoo’s threatening me,” he finally reveals.

I stare at him. “What? What do you mean?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip. “The night you found us. She threw herself on me, and now she’s asking for a sexual relationship. I told her there was no fucking way, but she wouldn’t let it go.”

I fix a serious look on him. “Why didn’t you tell me the entire truth before?”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

I slide my hands up, knotting his shoulders. “So, why haven’t you taken her up on her offer?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Haha, very funny.”

“I’m sorry,” I laugh. “You kind of deserve it. You made me think that you were a repeated offender.”

Baekhyun frowns. “Can we not make it seem like I’m some kind of criminal? Please?”

I bite my lip to prevent another laugh from slipping out. “Seriously. I thought you were just interested in checking off _high school girl fantasy_ on your personal bucket list.”

His expression softens. “Did I make you feel used?”

“I mean, it’s whatever. It hadn’t been the first time—“

He takes my hand, lacing our fingers. My heart squeezes at the emotions swimming in his eyes when he makes a point to look right at me with utmost sincerity. “And it’s the _last_ time that I’ll ever make you feel that way. I’m sorry, and I know apologizing doesn’t make it right, but I like you. I like you a lot.” Then, he drops his face, and I can see a hint of red.

“Are you blushing?” I ask incredulously.

“No—yes. I don’t know,” he drawls. “I can’t—“ He exhales nervously. “—look at you.”

I chuckle, moving my thumb under his chin to tilt his head up. “And why is that?”

“My chest feels weird,” he says, hesitantly meeting my eyes. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Did I do that?” I ask, trailing my hands on his chest and finally settling it on his heart.

His eyes flicker to my lips. “I think maybe it’s love.”

“You think or you know?” I tease, leaning in closer.

Baekhyun doesn’t show his usual antics of smirking or acting smug. Instead, he seems different today. Earnest and truthful. It makes me want to be truthful. I couldn’t help but anticipate that things were really changing this time. Not just because we were forcing it.

I’d given him every part of me, and he remained in front of me, treated me better than I’d hoped for in the first place. I was standing at the ledge, and I wanted to jump, knowing that there would be a strong possibility he’d be there.

He hums, “maybe you’ll find out.”

At this, I back up, throwing him a teasing grin and pushing a hand to stop him from approaching. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Byun.”

Baekhyun’s eyes flash with disappointment that makes me very giddy for no reason. “Kang, come back.”

I wave at him from across the room, slinging my backpack on my left shoulder.

“You’re so good to me,” Baekhyun states sarcastically.

“Who else has the heart to put up with an emotionless being?” I deadpan.

He snorts. “I’ve gotten better.” Silence. “I think.”

“You’re so cute. I really like this side of you,” I tell him, allowing myself to snuggle closer.

Baekhyun opens his arms, pulling me into his chest. “Thanks, I really like myself too.”

“Get off your high horse. I never said I liked you.”

He smiles mischievously and kisses my left dimple. “You’re absolutely right. You love me, and guess what?”

I stare at him, waiting expectantly.

“I love myself too,” he finally says after a beat.

I almost kick him off of his bed. “I actually hate you, by the way.”

Baekhyun chooses to ignore this and continues to cuddle me closer like the little weasel he is. I let him simply because I’m weak to his ways. “I like you in my bed.”

“Of course you do. Who else would you drool on?”

He rolls his eyes. “You really have a way with words.”

“Tit for tat.”

He makes a face, jokingly pushing me away. I roll over, but after a beat, he pulls me back toward his chest.

“Why are you like this? What happened to you?”

“You happened,” he answers easily. When I don’t say anything, he continues, “tomorrow’s senior skip day, right?”

I nod. “I’m probably going to school, though. Kyungsoo and Jongin are.”

Baekhyun purses his lips. “I say skip school.”

“Dude, you’re my teacher. Are you allowed to say this?”

“No, but I’m probably gonna take the day off.”

“Why?”

“So I can take my girlfriend on a date.”

“Your girlfriend?”

He stares dead at me, and it clicks.

“Who says I wanted to be your girlfriend?”

“Who says you’re my girlfriend?”

I slap at his arm. “If you say Jisoo, I will literally freeze dry your dick.”

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. “I’m not sure what’s worse. You thinking that I’d date her or freeze drying my dick.”

“You deserve both for breaking me twice.” But when the words leave my mouth, I feel a tiny tinge of guilt from the way he looks at me. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

He hides his face in my neck. “Stop it. You can’t keep guilt tripping me. It sucks.”

“ _You_ suck,” I protest.

“You’re an asshole, Kang.”

I slide my hands up from his lower back, resting one on his nape and the other on the side of his head. He lets out a small sigh of happiness and nuzzles. “I know.” I pause for a second, playing with his hair. “I’m not good for anyone. All I do is lie and run away. Deep down at my core, I’m just a coward, Bae.”

Baekhyun makes a disgruntled sound that tickles against my skin. “Don’t degrade my girlfriend.”

I tsk. “Your girlfriend’s a child.”

“Shh, she may be immature, but at least she knows when to admit she’s wrong. And she’s loyal—minus the part where she ran off to another boy—“

“Hey, to be fair, you started it.”

“Like I said—immature, but—“

“I don’t think your girlfriend actually likes you very much. You may be kind of delusional.”

“Let me finish, Eun.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, and he pulls back just a bit to see my expression, eyes darkening as he stares at my lip. I offer him a raised eyebrow before he snuggles back into my neck, unashamed that he’s been caught.

“I really appreciate you. The fact that you can come back to me despite how much I’ve fucked us over _._ I don’t know how you do it, but it’s not to say that I want this forever. The vicious cycle of us fighting and leaving. It’s toxic—you know as they say. The truth is I’m bad at this. Expressing my emotions without letting it explode and take over me. Whenever we fight, it’s like I’m watching myself do all the wrong things from another perspective. I’m so—“ He sighs miserably. “It’s annoying, isn’t it? To deal with me.”

“No, Baekhyun. I think—“ I take a deep breath, knowing the next subject will possibly touch a nerve. “I think you should take up therapy again.”

He’s silent for a while, and it scares me that I might’ve done some damage when we’ve already resolved things.

I don’t speak, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Eventually, I fall asleep, thinking about the uncertainty of our future. I do love him very much, but sometimes love doesn’t always guarantee happiness. It didn’t take rocket science for me to understand that anymore, but I’m not mad. I’m no longer scared of the unknown. I think I finally understand that you can’t control every single variable that occurs in the world.

If Baekhyun isn’t going to be next to me in the next several years, at least I’ll know that I’ve tried my all.


	17. plaudit

**[kyungsoo]**

In a normal day of his life, Kyungsoo couldn’t say that anything was out of nature or even interesting. His day starts with his little sister jumping directly on him and knocking the air out of his lungs, and then it proceeds to his mom sprinting down the hallway and into his room, scolding Kyungha, who, of course, doesn’t listen and giggles, running right between their mom’s legs. He stares at his disoriented mom and a crying Kyungha.

Blinking, he sits up stoically, walking right past the two and into the Jack and Jill shared bathroom with his little sister. His mom would then carefully remind him that there was an important appointment after school. His usual appointments. He would nod, toothbrush dangling between his lips.

Then, he’d come back into his empty room and throw on an outfit that he’d previously picked out the night before. Kyungsoo thoughtlessly fingers the thick knitted sweater that Jongin had gotten him last year for his birthday. As he quickly throws on his shirt, jeans, and the sweater. Jongin’s obnoxious honking wakes up the whole neighborhood.

To which, he’d rush downstairs with his backpack sloppily slung over his shoulder, denying the offer of breakfast. “Bye, mom.” And he turns to Kyungha, waving. She happily waves back before returning her attention to Khan Academy, her current source of entertainment.

“Do you want a ride after school?” His mom shouts before he’s able to make it out the door.

He turns his body halfway, answering, “I’m fine, mom. I’ll take the bus.”

Then, he’s off. The cold January air blows past his fact as he rushed to get inside of Jongin’s gaudy car. A red Hurucán, the epitome of daddy’s money.

The slow sunrise highlights Jongin’s bronze skin and sharp features, and honestly, every time he’s able to sneak a glance at his best friend, it’s like looking at him for the first time. In fact, Kyungsoo can list out every symptom and psychological effect that occurs whenever Jongin returns his gaze with his own nonchalant smile. The same smile that Jongin never puts any thought into, but it does wonders to Kyungsoo’s heart.

“So, how was your morning, Kyung?” Sleep still lingers in his best friend’s voice. It’s deep and smooth and Kyungsoo fantasizes how he’d sound if—

“Um, did you hear me?” Jongin interrupts his wandering thoughts.

Kyungsoo clears his throat. “Yeah, nothing much.” He usually doesn’t speak very much when the two of them are alone, but gratefully, Jongin can talk anyone’s ears off.

Not today, though. The silence is there, and Kyungsoo can feel it settle between the two of them.

It makes him wonder why Jongin hasn’t gone on his usual tangents about girls he can’t have. It’s kind of nice now that he thinks about it. Not the silence. Just the part where he doesn’t talk about his sexual attraction to girls.

_Girls_ , he thinks bitterly. If it were a math equation, it’d be the only part he didn’t fit into. Because if he were somehow forced to put their relationship in an equation, anything further than friends would come out undefined. He touches the part of his chest that never fails to remind him that he’d never get the boy he loves. He calls it the squeeze, which comes out mainly when Jongin’s doing things without thinking. Like taking off his shirt whenever he stops by Kyungsoo’s place after practice. Like easily falling asleep on Kyungsoo’s bed and looking so soft in his sleep that it doesn’t even bother the boy that there’s probably a million microbes swimming on Jongin’s skin.

But Kyungsoo’s become impressively good at pretending it doesn’t exist. Just like now when Jongin’s hands habitually settle on Kyungsoo’s left thigh, tapping gently.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Kyungsoo asks once he’s had enough of his mind and heart fighting each other.

“I don’t know,” Jongin answers honestly. “I’m just thinking, I guess.”

“Since when did you have full use of your brain?”

His best friend tsks. “You hurt me.”

“Oh, we’re going there? Do remind me of the time you forgot about my birthday because of a booty call?”

Jongin groans, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t even try me, dude.”

They stop at a red light where Jongin turns to meet his eyes. Kyungsoo feels his heart race without his permission. He didn’t know how or why because Jongin always looked at him. For the longest time, Kyungsoo felt like there was other people then there was him. Always diminished. Always forgotten. But after meeting Jongin, he’d grown more confidence in his decisions. He could make them without being insecure about another person’s opinion.

Jongin did a lot of things to him, especially when he looked at him. Because whenever Jongin looked at you, he’d really look straight at you, respectfully. When things were serious, Kyungsoo knew he could tell the latter anything. Easily.

Being with Jongin was having a bubble of safe space. Anything that came out stayed, and he trusted his best friend with his life.

Except there was something off about Jongin’s gaze. It was almost wishful—like the boy had wanted more. But more of what? Kyungsoo couldn’t tell.

“You’re beautiful, you know? Not just inside, but you’re beautiful everywhere,” Jongin finally says after a minute.

“Where’s this coming from?” Kyungsoo asks mechanically, rubbing at his suddenly warm cheeks.

Jongin’s attention goes back to driving, and he misses it immediately. He wanted to feel that again, being looked at in a way that felt more than friends. “Nowhere. Just realized I’ve never told you that. And—“ He clears his throat. “You look good in the sweater. I’m glad I bought it.”

Kyungsoo breaks into a smile, forgetting to control his facial expression for a second. It’s too late to rescind it because Jongin sees. He’d seen the affectionate eyes, and Kyungsoo’s heart races in anxiety. Has he been caught?

“Stop smoking before school. There’s something wrong with your head, weirdo,” he says briskly, trying to cover his tracks.

Jongin squints his eyes. “Nope, I think you’re just embarrassed. I think I’m going to keep showering you with compliments.”

He groans, “ugh, no. Stop. You’re doing this for your own self-satisfaction.”

“What are you talking about, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo stops because Jongin isn’t speaking with his usual playfulness. “What—I—then, why does it matter? We’re just friends. Friends don’t—it’s just weird, okay?”

The corner of Jongin’s lips tug up as he rubs the nape of his neck. Kyungsoo had forgotten that the latter’s hand was on his thigh in the first place, and now it just felt empty. A piercing emptiness. “No, you’re right. We’re friends. But—“ At this point, they’ve pulled into Jongin’s parking spot. When he puts his gear into park, Jongin turns to level him a look. “You deserve to hear how great you are, because you’re Kyungsoo, my best friend and—“ He closes his mouth before opening it again. “I just want you to know how much I care about you because you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally u—”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Stop talking.” He even holds out his hand to make the point. “Forever. Please. Thank you.”

When he gets out of Jongin’s car, he has a sinking feeling that his friend had diverted whatever it is he’d wanted to say in the first place. Kyungsoo didn’t know why he felt like this wasn’t the end of it. It didn’t help that Jongin was too close for comfort lately, and quite frankly, his heart was confused.

Kyungsoo quickly forgets about this when he sees Haeeun, half turned from her car, lock it. He squints his eyes, observing her sharply from head to toe.

It was mid January, so it was numbingly cold. He wasn’t surprised to see her don a hoodie, but the hoodie had dwarfed her almost completely. It sort of felt like it wasn’t hers, rather a souvenir from someone else’s closet. If he had to guess, it was definitely Baekhyun’s.

Haeeun looks sad, the sort of sadness that blends in with exhaustion. Her eyes are dim, contrasting to her usual brightness. Jongin notices it too because he’s not joking loudly as usual. She’s wearing a beanie under the hood of her jacket. It’d seemed like she was trying to conceal herself. But from what?

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asks worriedly, pressing a hand on her shoulders to stop her from moving.

She nods, smiling weakly. “No, but I’ll manage.”

“What’s wrong?” Jongin attempts to pry.

Haeeun, surprisingly, admits, “I didn’t sleep at all last night. Well, I couldn’t. I’ve been having reoccurring nightmares.”

Kyungsoo watches her. “Let’s get some caffeine into you and pray you don’t pass out today.”

She smiles gratefully in response. “I love you.”

“Does Baekhyun know?” Jongin asks.

“He doesn’t have to,” she answers slyly, hooking her arms with the two of them.

“I will not willingly participate in a threesome,” Kyungsoo announces before Jongin opens his mouth.

Jongin sticks his tongue out. “Why is it that our entire class will sleep with me except the two of you? I just cannot understand.”

Haeeun makes a face. “I have a boyfriend.”

Kyungsoo nods. “She has a—“ Then, he realizes what she’s just said. “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Boyfriend? As in Pedobear? As in—“ Jongin lowers his voice into a hush. “—our calc’ teacher?”

She throws them both exasperated looks. “Give him some credit. He’s not a great person, but he’s a good boyfriend.”

Kyungsoo snorts in amusement. “Usually, it’d be the opposite.”

Jongin nudges her with his hip. “But special circumstances require special measures.”

“He’s not a wild animal, Jong,” she deadpans.

In the beginning, it was plain and clear that Baekhyun and Haeeun were terrible for each other. Firstly, it was extremely illegal. Secondly, Baekhyun could be compared to a raging ball of hormonal pubescent boy, and his best friend is simply put a ball of irrational emotions. There was nothing good about them. Not the way that the older man had made his best friend cry or the way they’d be at each other’s throat every time they weren’t having sex.

It was unhealthy, and oh so very toxic. Kyungsoo was against it, and Haeeun knew. But it wasn’t his place to ruin their relationship.

So when Kyungsoo prepared his mind for the next ninety-five minutes of class, he didn’t expect to see Baekhyun sneak concerned glances at his girlfriend. Obvious glances. Well, not to the unsuspecting person, but definitely obvious to him.

Haeeun wasn’t paying attention as usual, but it’d looked like the three of them could tell that there was more to her apathy than the norm.

He also didn’t expect Baekhyun to stop lecturing halfway during class and instead, assigned them silent work time for the rest of class. This was certainly not normal, and it was changing Kyungsoo’s daily rhythm.

But it wasn’t like it made him uncomfortable. He would be hard pressed to say that Baekhyun did this for Haeeun, but still, he’d hoped so.

When class ends, she wordlessly packs her things, not really interested in spiking up a conversation with anyone.

Kyungsoo was beginning to get very fucking concerned, and Jongin was too because she wasn’t laughing at any of his antics.

“Baby,” Baekhyun calls out when his class empties of the other students.

“Hae,” Kyungsoo repeats when she doesn’t answer.

The second time around, her eyes wander to Baekhyun’s. Kyungsoo just knew. He felt it. Whether she’d known it or not, her natural instinct to turn to her boyfriend meant that things had _changed_. She’d actually trusted him.

Kyungsoo didn’t know how much more he could be blown away by the little surprises sprouting here and there.

What had seemed like a normal day to him was beyond his expectation.

Baekhyun sits on the desk near the one she’d been standing by and pats his lap. She drops herself gently on him, curling her body against his chest.

Kyungsoo watches them silently—speechlessly. Then, he exchanges a look with Jongin, probably thinking the exact same thing. For the first time, Baekhyun hadn’t been the cause of her misery. In fact, it was the opposite. In this very moment, he seemed to be the very thing holding her up.

The two lovebirds were lost in the entirety of their own world, and they were speaking in hush tones, exchanging intimacy. Kyungsoo felt as if he was intruding—like he was naturally not apart of the loop. Their loop. And he was strangely okay with it.

Jongin nods his head to the door, and Kyungsoo gladly follows with the tiniest smile on his face.

He locks the door on the way out. And suddenly, he was really feeling this new normal.

The last bell rings and the hoard of students rush out the school in every direction. Kyungsoo panics slightly as he’s trapped between people towering him. God, he hates people who stand in the hallway. Foot traffic gets blocked and people are actually run over. He’s not the tallest, and he’s usually the one who gets rammed into.

Speaking of that, he squeaks in surprise as an elbow flies in his direction. He closes his eyes instinctively, but he’s pulled in another direction and manages to avoid the impact. “Hey.” He opens his eyes, and Jongin stares down at him, blinking. “Don’t stand around like that. You’ll get hurt.”

Kyungsoo shoves at Jongin’s chest, feeling slightly embarrassed for no particular reason. “I’m more likely to be hurt by you.”

“I’m offended that you think so lowly of me.”

“You swung a bat at me.”

“Listen, that was years ago, and I made up for it—don’t you think so?”

“Sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you mad? What do you want me to do for you?”

“How about leaving me alone so I can go home?”

“Rude.”

“Move.”

“Make me—ow, what the hell?”

Kyungsoo ignores him and continues to walk.

“Where are you going, Kyung?” Jongin asks, catching up with him in three easy long strides.

“To a thing.”

“Let me give you a ride.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“What? Why not?”

“Don’t need one.”

“Well, I insist.”

Kyungsoo chews on his bottom lip, thinking. Would it be that bad? He decides that maybe he’s overthinking all of this, and Jongin was bound to find out anyway.

He didn’t expect Jongin not to ask a million questions when they reach his therapist’s office.

The silence is dreadful, so Kyungsoo finds it in himself to explain. “Do you want to know why?”

Jongin’s eyes are swimming with something unfamiliar. Pain, maybe? “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay. I don’t make a point to hide it. It’s just something that doesn’t come up in friendly conversations. My dad—he…” Kyungsoo plays with his fingers. “When I was ten, he and I were on our way to the airport. Mom was visiting her parents, and she’d just come back. On our way, we slipped on black ice and the car—it flipped.”

Jongin winces. “I can’t believe I never asked. I just assumed your parents were separated.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Mom doesn’t like to dwell on it. He was the love of her life. She told me that she’d rather talk about the good memories she’s had of him, rather than be reminded of his painful passing. I’d wake up screaming up to months after Dad died, so Mom thought it was best if I went to—“ He gestures to the building in front of them.

“Does it help?”

“I’ve been off sleeping pills for a year now.”

Jongin smiles at this, all deep and warm. Kyungsoo’s stomach trips up with butterflies. “I’m glad out of the three of us, you’re doing okay.”

Kyungsoo’s smile slowly falls at the slightly bitter tone of his voice. “What do you mean?”

But Jongin keeps up with his smile and dismisses him, saying that they’ll be late.

Kyungsoo walks out of his psychologist’s office to find Jongin leaning against the wall, his eyes are closed and his chest heaves softly.

He stands in front of Jongin, shielding the boy from the bright orange sunset. “Did you bring your boyfriend today?”

He turns to see Diane, his favorite receptionist. “When did you get here? I didn’t see you earlier when I was heading in.”

She cringes slightly as she tells him. “Well, Amir called me to say he was having a bug. Apparently, he threw up in this trash can right here.”

“Gross.”

“Right?”

“But no.”

“No? To what?”

“Jongin’s not my boyfriend.”

“Really? That’s a shame. I’ve never seen you look at someone so tenderly.”

Kyungsoo smiles slightly. “Eh, he’s okay.” Liar.

Diane chuckles. “Well, take the poor boy home. He looks exhausted.”

“Alright, bye Diane. I’ll see you in two weeks.” He waves at her, surprisingly content. “Jongin, time to get up.” He shakes the sleeping boy awake, and Jongin blinks slowly before he’s conscious again.

He watches the boy yawn. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” His next words were indecipherable, and all Kyungsoo got was _Sehun_ and _party_ , but it was enough to piece together what had gone on.

Kyungsoo listens to Jongin happily recall his memories about last night with half an ear. So when the car ride ended quicker than he’d remembered it, he couldn’t help but feel a trickle of disappointment.

Jongin waves him goodbye, but Kyungsoo stops mid-step. He turns to meet Jongin’s curious gaze.

“I have appointments every two weeks.”

The latter nods slowly with little understanding.

Kyungsoo drops his eyes towards his gravel driveway. “Do you want to come with me?”

Afraid to look up, Kyungsoo remains focused on the counting each and every pebble as the seconds tick by. When Jongin is taking too long to respond, he forces himself to look up and is surprised to see that Jongin is standing right in front of him.

“I’d love to.”

Kyungsoo’s chest explodes, and he’s lightheaded from elation. “Really?”

Jongin laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyung.”

He nods daintily. “See you.” His words are quiet and shy, relieved that Jongin is the same as he’s always been—serious when Kyungsoo had needed him to understand.

Before the boy turns to go, he reaches out to gently touch Kyungsoo’s right cheek. Then, he’s off, leaving a breathless Kyungsoo behind.

He watches the last bit of Jongin’s car disappear down the street. His chest is bubbling with emotions. Mostly warmth. His mother opens the door for him. “How was your day, honey?”

Kyungsoo beams at her. “Different.”

And she hugs him, despite her visible confusion.


	18. kitsch

**[haeeun]**

Dating Baekhyun was erratic. In a way, I knew what to expect, but when he killed my expectations, I felt like I could too.

“I don’t think this is how relationships work,” I drone. Baekhyun ignores me, pushing me against his classroom door. He leans in, stopping a few inches from my lips.

“Yeah?” He breathes sexily.

I try not to think about how scandalous he’s being right now and focus on thirty minutes ago. “I’m _mad_ at you,” I say in an attempt to be upset.

Baekhyun pulls back a bit. Tilting his head, he asks, “what can I do to make you feel better?”

I almost keel over in shock. “What?”

He blinks in confusion. “I’m asking you the question, babe.”

I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly at a loss for words. “No—this is—you can’t just—“In this case, my brain was short-circuiting. “You yelled at me…That was uncalled for.”

Baekhyun pulls back all the way, both of his hands on his hips. “You called Jisoo a broomstick for no reason. That was uncalled for.”

I stifle a laugh.

“Is that so funny?”

“No.” Then, I laugh behind my palms. “Okay, but did I lie? Her body’s one dimensional.”

Baekhyun sighs as if I’ve maxed out on emotional immaturity. “No, Eun. My job is to teach. It doesn’t entail looking at my students’ bodies.”

I roll my eyes. “But having a relationship with one is?”

He grunts, “you can’t keep using that against me.”

I throw him a cocky grin. “I think it’s funny that you think I’d listen to you.” If I knew there was a way to win against him in a conversation, I was going to do it. Testing Baekhyun is my favorite past time, which naturally means he hates it.

Baekhyun’s gaze grows intense by the minute. The way he pins it on me sends thousands of shivers down my spine. I instinctually back into the door, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m already pressed against it in a split second.

Swallowing, I shift in my spot. “What are you planning?”

His dark eyes flit down my entire body. “I think you need a _lesson_.”

I harrumph, “a lesson? We’re not roleplaying in some terrible low budget porno, Bae.”

He drags his palm up from my stomach, past my chest, settling right on the base of my neck, squeezing lightly. “Let’s play a game.”

I send him an exasperated look intermingled with nervousness. “Game?”

Baekhyun’s smile is chilling. “It’s called let’s _see how long it takes for Kang to get off her high horse_.”

“Sounds boring,” I ridicule, stifling a fake yawn.

His jaw ticks and he strokes his thumb over the skin of my neck in what I can say as the most patience I’ve ever seen. I feel goosebumps fly across the surface of my skin. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

He’s close enough to kiss me, so I close my eyes, anticipating the taste of his mouth and the searing temperature of his tongue. It never comes, so I open them.

Baekhyun’s lowered himself on the ground, staring up with his smug smile—the insanely attractive for no reason smile. Then, he begins without any warning, and I almost drop to the ground from his soft, nipping kisses on my bare stomach.

He swirls his tongue, humming. He’s teasing me—showing me what he can do. I want to let him do it to me. Tear me apart with his naughty mouth. But I can’t. Not with his cocky intentions at play.

I fail almost immediately when he tugs the drawstrings of my sweatpants free. It loosens, sliding off my legs easily.

Baekhyun marvels at the view, and I feel butterflies erupt from the glimmer in his eyes. He leans in, kissing up from my thighs. I shake when he presses two fingers to my clothed sex. “But I haven’t done anything yet,” he teases.

I breathe in and out. “Bae.”

He stops, humming somewhat mockingly. “Hm?”

I groan in disappointment when his touch disappears. Instead, he sneaks me playful smiles before kissing a line up from my calves, tracing his way up toward the inside of my thighs. Heat builds, spreading quickly. His kisses are wet, his tongue darting out to play with the sensitive skin just right below.

He hasn’t even taken off my panties, but I’m already weak in the knees. I drop my hands on his shoulders, stopping him. “We can’t,” I gasp out.

Baekhyun grins wickedly. “Why? You scared we’ll get caught?”

I can only glare weakly at him, still dizzy from the cold tingles on my skin from his saliva. Closing my eyes and attempting to regain what’s left of my control, I grip his shoulders. “I—I want you, but not when your job’s on the line.”

I smile deprecatingly. Months ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit, but it was different now. I couldn’t bear to see myself destroy Baekhyun’s life. My heart weighs down in my chest at the realization that I’ve finally grown to think about others—and not just what was right for me.

Baekhyun’s eyes are fixed on me, staring unwaveringly—as if staring any harder will help him figure me out. I squint my eyes, throwing him a strange look as I run my hand through his hair.

Knowing him, I can tell he’s thinking about something deeply. I slide my hands down, cupping his right cheek and thumbing it gently to get his attention.

We lock eyes, and I close the distance between us, kissing him—slow and deliberate. Baekhyun groans, sliding his right hand up and under my shirt. He cups my breast, squeezing, and reaching up to kiss me harder.

My mouth falls open, and I taste him—his sounds spill, mixing with mine. My skin is hot, burning with desire for him and him only.

His classroom is silent, except for our moans. Here, at the crux of my life, I was sure of it. We didn’t need words anymore to convey a single emotion. I could taste it. I could hear it. And I could smell it. Most importantly, I felt it. Right in the apex of my high, I’d never been so sure of anything.

“I love you,” I murmur.

Baekhyun slows his kiss and murmurs, “then and now, you’re still my entire world.”

My lips curl upward, feeling him tug off my panties swiftly. He releases me, dropping himself on his knees again.

“And I’m going to show you that,” he whispers lewdly.

Baekhyun eases my trembling thighs open, kissing with intent. He’s slow, purposely teasing me. I can’t seem to be mad at him, despite my orgasm being seemingly miles away.

“Tell me. What do you want me to do?” He asks, inching closer to the place I needed him at.

I squirm, legs closing instinctively.

He shakes his head as if I was indeed a bad girl. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

Shaking, I do as he says, my mouth falling open when he drags his tongues between my folds. “Can you—“I gasp, feeling him torture me with long, slow licks. “Please—“I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “I need you.”

Something clicks in him because he firmly presses me against his door, sucking attentively on my clit. I force myself to stand, barely holding back from screaming his name. He’s relentless, licking, and sucking consistently where I need him.

I open my eyes, staring dazedly down at him. Then, I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling with just the right amount of pressure. He moans my name, the vibrations sparking a frenzy of heat. I can feel the pleasure race in my blood, reaching the highest point. Pushing my hips forward, I plead him airily.

And then I’m there, arching my back and chasing pure ecstasy. He hasn’t stopped, letting me ride out my orgasm. When it fades, and I’m back, I let myself slide down to the floor. Our eyes meet, and mine dip, inspecting his moistened chin, evidence of me and his spit, and the boyish, red flush across his cheeks. It’s almost like his entire existence is fine art. I find it in myself to look back into his eyes—cloudy and intoxicated.

I pull my hands from his hair, using my sleeve to wipe his chin. I smile at him appreciatively. Seeing my expression, Baekhyun pulls me into his chest. “I don’t think I’d be okay ever again if you left me,” he whispers.

I snuggle into his neck. “Where would I go?” I chuckle when he fakes a whine, reaching to play with the hair on his nape. It’s gotten much longer to the point that I can see his roots. I love it. I love everything about him. “Bae,” I call out softly, pulling back to meet his eyes.

Baekhyun tilts his head, mirroring a childlike expression. He’s fucking adorable, and I just had to kiss his nose. He snorts, pretending to push me off of him.

I cling, tightening my arms around his neck and making my koala past-life proud.

“You should probably lay off the late-night ice cream,” he jokes.

I hum, “who do you think I do it for, you ingrate?”

He tsks, wounding his arms around my waist and lifting me on top of him as he lies down. “Maybe you should let him be the judge of it.”

A wicked smile graces my lips, and I dive in to kiss his neck. Deciding to tease him, I mirror his exact words from earlier. “But I haven’t done anything yet.”

Baekhyun throws me a top-notch sarcastic smile. “Get off your high horse.”

Pretending to put on my cowboy hat, I let out a very purposeful, “ _yee-haw,”_ before, of course, giving him the best orgasm of his life.

Dating Baekhyun wasn’t only erratic—sometimes, I’d be in situations in which I’d known exactly how he would react, but still, he surprises me.

“How was work?” I ask, tossing my arm behind my shoulder and possibly mirroring the laziest wave ever.

Baekhyun answers me as if out of habit, but he pauses mid-sentence. I half-turn to see him eying me with a hawkish gaze.

“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” He finally asks.

I wrinkle my face. “Well, if I’d known that was gonna be your reaction, I would’ve just greeted you completely naked.”

He throws me his _are-you-kidding-look_ , the one that he often gives to my classmates when they act below their IQ level. “How the hell did you get my keys?”

“Honey, do you ever pay attention? Your mom’s anniversary—I told the elevator hopper I was your wife. George is literally an angel. He got me the keys from the front desk.”

Baekhyun looks like he’s menstruating, and even I’m not that temperamental. “I don’t know whether to be amazed at your wits or stupefied.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m down to surprise yo—“Of course, at the same time, I’m saying this, the knife slips from my hand, and I’m greeted with a generous gash on my palm.

“You’re an idiot,” he grunts.

I smile nonchalantly. “To be fair, dull knives are dangerous. Maybe you should’ve sharpened your knife.”

If Baekhyun wasn’t driving thirty miles over the speed limit, then he would’ve clutched his head, desperately finding a cure for his impending migraine. “Whatever,” he sighs. “Just put pressure on your hand.” Then, he whips his head to gawk at me. “Eun, I swear to fucking god—what the hell are you doing?”

I lift my palm. “It stopped bleeding. Oh—“I laugh sheepishly. “Never mind.”

“Put the towel back on,” he shouts.

“But you know what’ll be likely to kill me more? A car accident. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Byun.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes for the nth time. I don’t know how it’s possible that his eyes haven’t permanently rolled to the back of his head. It’s fascinating stuff, really.

My eyes catch sight of something, and I fumble for the lights.

He scowls beside me. “Turn off the lights. I—“

“It’s not illegal, you know? If your parents told you that, they lied to you.”

“Babe, I can’t fucking see the road.”

“Oh, haha.” Pursing my lips, I scratch my nape nervously. “Is it normal to see a red line—“

I swear when I tell you that Baekhyun reenacted Brian in _Fast and Furious_ as he pulled over into the shoulder lane in point-blank, it’s heart attack inducing accurate. He cradles my arm, muttering the gravest “fuck” I’ve ever heard.

Then, he proceeds to be a perfectly law-abiding citizen as he gets me to the hospital. Mother, I’m in love with a criminal.

“Oh, hey guys, what’s up?” Miyoung casually waves.

Baekhyun halts his movements. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a doctor, Baek.”

“No, I mean—shouldn’t you be at your parents’ hospital?”

She throws her head back, laughing. “I’m rebelling.”

“You’re far from her age,” he deadpans.

I let out an offended sound before the two of them realize I exist.

“She needs antibiotics and an IV,” Baekhyun announces.

Miyoung frowns. “Hey, I’m the one with the actual title, okay?”

He sighs, pushing me gently in her direction. “She cut her palm, and I suspect blood poisoning from the inflammation.”

“Good call, Baek. You haven’t lost your touch,” Miyoung says after she comes back with my blood test.

I coo, “isn’t he just the smartest?”

Baekhyun swats my uninjured hand away. “Worry about yourself.”

I make a face, and Miyoung proceeds to tell him to buy some water. After arguing with her that there wasn’t a need because I would be getting an IV, he ends up stalking off anyway.

“What a grouchy _feller,_ what’d you feed him?” She asks while administering my IV.

I chuckle affectionately. “I know. Isn’t he a catch?”

Miyoung blows a raspberry as she finishes administering the antibiotics through the syringe. Then, she plops herself on the nearest chair, pulling out a suture kit. “He tends to be wound up a little tight when he’s worried. It’s a nasty habit of his.”

We share a genuine laugh before it goes silent again. I clear my throat to say something as she begins to say something. I grow quiet, and she does too. We stare at each other for a brief second before she begins to disinfect my palm.

“I’m sorry about before,” I tell her, eyes darting away. “You were right to do what you did. I understand, you know—if Bae ever—“I shudder at the thought. “I’d probably castrate him and feed it to his mistress.”

Miyoung snorts, shaking her head. “I don’t dwell on it, sweetheart. Chanyeol has done wonders in broadening my horizons.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “That night at the bar—it was you, wasn’t it?”

Her eyes widen, and she pauses for a beat. “You remember?”

I bite my lip. “It’s hazy, but I put the pieces together.”

She grins, a few strands falling in her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“And thank _you_ for being his best friend,” I mutter, finding the courage to meet her eyes.

Miyoung exchanges a comforting smile with me and goes back to suturing. “You love him,” she observes.

“How can you tell?”

“Because you’re still with _that.”_

“Man, no one gives him any credit,” I joke.

She laughs softly. “He loves you so much that it’s sickening.”

My mouth goes dry at her statement. “What?”

Miyoung shakes her head. “I’m surprised you can’t tell. It’s everywhere. When he’s contradicting himself, you just know.”

I contemplate her words carefully, and at the moment, the door opens forcefully, and Baekhyun invites himself in.

Miyoung gapes at him as if she were in a zoo examining a species in its habitat. “I meant one water bottle, Baek.”

He tosses them down on an open seat. “She needs to stay hydrated to get better. And your stitch pattern sucks ass.”

“Tell me that again after you get your board certificate, dumbass,” she snarks, tying the last knot and snipping the extra thread.

Baekhyun crosses his arms, opening his mouth to snap back, but I interrupt.

“I’m hungry.”

His expression softens, and he reaches his arms out. I immediately nestle to his side, and Miyoung throws us an exaggerated look of disgust.

“Did it hurt?” He questions me affectionately. “I hope it doesn’t scar—“He shoots a sharp look at his best friend.

She raises both hands above her head. “Get back to me once you’re on my level.”

I laugh at her comment, but Baekhyun doesn’t even look annoyed anymore. “I have to feed her. See you,” he declares.

Miyoung shakes her head in disapproval, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “I’ll see you both at my wedding.”

“That’ll be hard,” he asserts.

“On time!” She hollers.

Not surprisingly, we had sex again. On his couch. I’d been in the middle of watching a fascinating movie about a group of reporters investigating the sacrilegious crime of the Catholic church covering up child sexual abuse.

The credits are rolling when Baekhyun prompts, “earlier, you acted as if nothing happened. Eun, do you feel detached from pain?”

I feign my big girl smile that he is, not surprisingly, fooled by. “Physical pain, yes, but I’m not immune to the pain in here.” I tap the side of my head.

He kisses my shoulder. “Don’t we all wish we were?”

“Why don’t you ever ask me about my scars? They’re so prominent. Aren’t you curious?” I inquire in consideration.

“We all have stories, and some of us aren’t ready to disclose them.”

I turn around, trying to make him out in the dark. Baekhyun’s eyes are closed. So, I close mine and press my face against his chest. “I was physically abused by several of my foster parents. I found pain easier to deal with when I thought about things I liked. Earlier, Miyoung asked if I wanted local anesthetic. I honestly didn’t need it. I was thinking about you.”

“Can I touch them?” He asks, his voice tinged with pain.

“I’m not a porcelain doll.”

“Can you blame me? I treated you like crap. I don’t deserve being in this position. I sleep at night, knowing there’s a possibility you’d leave me—“

I shut him up by silencing his voice with my hand. “When I love someone, I love them to death. Stop fretting over stupid things. There’s no way I’d settle for just anybody after all the shit I’ve been through. So, tell me, are we going to keep being stubborn about useless worries, or are we going to worry about more important things like the fact that I almost died tonight?”

He laughs, and it tickles my ears. He sounds so soft, and right now, all I want to do is envelope him in a big hug. “You’re honestly something, Kang.”

“Then, leave,” I tease, pulling away from him.

Baekhyun traps me, blowing raspberries on my skin until I’m slapping at his back to stop his ridiculousness. “In your dreams,” he tells me in his intimate voice as I’m red-cheeked and recovering from his attack.

“Will you fight for me?” I ask amid silence.

“That’s not a question.”

“Still. Will you promise to fight for me?”

“If I promise, will you shut up?”

I slap him across the chest, satisfied when he grimaces. “Jail,” I deadpan.

“I don’t think you meant it unironically, but it perfectly describes the situation I’m in, doesn’t it?”

I groan, “don’t guilt trip me, you asshole.”

Even in the dark, I can tell he’s grinning cheekily. “How does it feel to taste your own medicine?”

“Tastes like disappointment,” I answer without hesitation.

“How is it possible that I feel attacked?”

“Might be because it wasn’t self-deprecating.”

“Someone’s got to do something about your mouth, baby.”

I jut out my lips, and he smushes them with his palms. “I’m going home,” I sulk.

Despite his actions, he doesn’t let me escape from his arms. “Why? Your home’s with me.”

I’m sure he hadn’t meant any significance to his words, but my eyes are prickling. I’d be damned if he found out.

Fortunately, I’d been right about him. There wasn’t much of a difference between him two years ago and him now. And it’d been evident that I love him in all forms and shapes.


	19. contretemps

**[haeeun]**

“Good morning.” Baekhyun’s vanilla voice is a pleasant sound to wake up to, except I didn’t look forward to getting up, mostly because he wouldn’t let me sleep last night with his sneaky hands.

I prop an eye open to see him hovering above me, lips to my ears. He tumbles forward when I throw my arms around his neck. His weight feels just right pressed on top of me, and I’m content staying where I am.

He wrestles me, preventing me from falling back to sleep. I am, as of now, slightly annoyed, but he’s being adorable, so I stop resisting. “I can’t get up,” I murmur, letting out a massive yawn while rubbing my eyes drowsily.

Baekhyun chuckles and tells me I’m a lot like a cat. “Get up,” he insists. I shake my head, burying my face below his covers that smell a lot like him. I’m pretty sure I’m in heaven. “You asked for it.”

Blinking confusedly, I echo, “asked for—“

Tilting my chin up, he dives to kiss me, dipping his tongue between my open lips and coaxing a moan out of me. Yet out of nowhere, he picks me up in one fell swoop, and we’re going full speed in the direction of his bathroom. “What the _fuck_?”

He doesn’t stop, and instead, laughs at me as he drops me in a tub of water filled to the brim.

I sputter out a mouthful of it. “Shut up, Byun. This isn’t funny.” Glaring, I run my hands through my knotted hair, now soaked with water. My clothes are all wet, and he’s still laughing in my face. As cute as the sound of his laugh is, I’m in no mood to humor him. Smiling sardonically, I tug at his leg, and he trips into the tub, cursing colorfully at me.

“I could’ve died,” he emphasizes.

“Good, you deserve it—“ He splashes me with water, and it goes straight up my nose, sending me flying into a coughing fit.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my infant boyfriend.

We arrive late at the airport, and there are a million people in line. Baekhyun is currently lecturing me about being punctual. Something about how I should act more like a human being to which I answer that I wasn’t the one who thought it was funny to douse his girlfriend in water and laugh at her misery like some sociopath.

As we’re in the middle of bickering and trying to one-up each other, an elderly lady points out that we must get along and asks us if we’re married.

“It’s our one year anniversary,” I chirp.

Baekhyun nudges me, sending me glaringly hidden messages with his eyes. I ignore him and continue to engage the old lady in conversation.

“You know—it’s not nice to lie to elders. Didn’t your parents teach you any better?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “They abandoned me.”

His expression is priceless, and I crack a shit-eating grin.

The plane ride is a lot less rough than the one in London. I downloaded movies on my laptop, engaging in them to pass the time. On the other hand, Baekhyun is practically snoring away on my shoulder. He’s so dead that even the flight attendant asked me periodically if he was okay.

As soon as the plane descends, he jumps so hard in his seat that he hits his knee against the seat in front with a loud thunk, which prompts the person in front to turn around and begin reprimanding him for not having proper etiquette—and oh, the irony.

The weather is unreal. It’s all blue skies and sunny days. The smell of the ocean overwhelms my five senses. Contrary to our city and the miserable cold that dips negatively, it’s a nice t-shirt and board shorts type of weather.

I turn halfway, meeting his gaze. Baekhyun tells me that as much as he’d like to kiss the bejeezus out of me, we had to go check-in and settle our luggage before we could go sightseeing. I agree and run to join him, intertwining our hands. He kisses the top of my head, and we head to our sleeping arrangement.

Our place lies near the North Shore, a picturesque beach with glistening white sand, and as we arrived, the sun has begun to set. The breath is quite literally knocked out of me. Miyoung and Chanyeol reserved separate villas at Tiki Moon, located in sand and concrete paths with lush green trees and vibrant tropical flowers. Our villa was a couple of yards down from the couple. I think that it’d been deliberate, reasons different than the ones my man proclaimed.

I ask him when we would meet up with the two, and it turns out we’re having dinner together. Plastering a smile on my face, I nod along with his excited chattering. I knew it’d been a while since he’d seen them, not counting our unceremonious trip to the emergency room, and thereby meeting Miyoung. They were important people in his life, so naturally, I felt out of place. Just what was I doing here? I didn’t understand why Miyoung was so set on us coming together.

I hid my anxiety from him. I couldn’t bear to have him worry about me. He looked like he was having so much fun—more so because we were thousands of miles away from our lives back in bustling NYC.

We were amidst of exploring the beach and checking out local shops.

“How did you meet Chanyeol?” I ask after a long, comfortable silence.

Baekhyun turns his head in my direction, a nostalgic smile curling at his lips. “College. I’d been a STEM major, and it was fucking miserable. You do know about some of it, don’t you?”

I shake my head curiously. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

His mouth falls open. “This is embarrassing, but I’m thrilled that I beat myself.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I drone, biting back a shameful smile.

“About what?”

“You’re embarrassing,” I answer coldheartedly.

He throws his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into a chokehold. Not even a second in and I’m already tapping out.

“My mom was diagnosed during that time,” Baekhyun announces when we continue down the plaza. “I was probably at my worse. Falling asleep during lectures, getting kicked out of class, and my then-girlfriend dumping me because she said I smelled like booze all the time.”

I nod, considering his words. “I’m guessing Chanyeol had something to do with your recovery.”

He hums in agreement. “When cancer took her, I thought that was it for me, but he waited patiently and knocked some sense into me.”

“Well, cancer’s a bitch,” I say sadly.

Baekhyun finds my hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. “When you said your mom—was she one of your adoptive parents?”

I tsk. “She was the one out of two that adopted me. It’s funny, isn’t it? My whole life. I was never really wanted by anyone.”

He smiles bitterly. “To be fair, you’re extremely resilient. It’s my favorite part about you.”

“Even when I’m annoying you?”

“Oh, please. You’re only like that because I reciprocate.”

“ _Or_ because you body-swapped with a toddler.”

Baekhyun stops in his steps, making a show of letting go of my hand only to unironically prove my point—except I don’t tell him that and instead, loop my arms back around his.

Sidling to his side, I make a sickeningly good impression of Jisoo kissing ass. “I’m just kidding, Bae. No one fucks me to the stars like you do.” When I whisper the last bit in his ears, he’s grinning smugly again.

“So, what does he do now?”

“Yeol?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s CEO of his own start-up. We’re both from old money, but he made something out of himself. We were both STEM majors, but I can’t keep up with him when he spouts off about computer mechanisms.”

I snort amusedly. “So he does something productive with his life, and you live off of daddy’s money?”

Baekhyun ignores this.

“Don’t be ashamed. Jongin does the same.”

“He’s a teenager.”

“Really? Man, I don’t even see the difference.”

And despite my constant attempts to get a rise out of him, his eyes are the shape of crescent moons, and his hand—it never leaves mine.

//

Needless to say, Chanyeol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste of me. Miyoung does her best to ignore him when she pulls me into a welcoming hug. She radiates with enthusiasm, and at the very least, there’s one thing for me to feel less shitty about.

Baekhyun doesn’t notice because Chanyeol’s expression changes in an instant before he’s able to detect.

As they catch up and act like little boys put together, Miyoung pulls me aside, linking our arms.

“You’re gorgeous, Mi,” I tell her, eyeing her floral baby doll dress that emphasizes her height.

She smiles, a little flustered from my compliment. “Thank you. How’s your hand?”

I flash her my palm, the injury now a tiny pink scar. “It’s perfect, thanks to you.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” She bumps our hips softly. “What about Baekhyun? Is he doing good?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You know how it is with Baekhyun.”

“Tell me about it,” she groans.

“But,” I begin, smiling dazedly. “I love that man.”

Miyoung’s eyes grow wide. “Did you tell him? Does he feel the same way?”

“Yes, and I honestly don’t know. I’m not too hung up on it. He makes me feel loved, and that’s much better than empty words.”

“Baekhyun’s right about you.”

I fold my arms around my chest. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She laughs delightfully. “Nothing bad. Just a lot of gross swooning.”

“There’s no way,” I mutter.

Miyoung leans closer, lowering her voice into a hush. “He said that—“

“First of all, you back off,” Baekhyun interjects, pushing us apart. “And you—“ He points to me with his index finger. “—don’t need to know.”

//

Dinner is awkward--not even the double date kind of embarrassing. It’d been painful. Chanyeol doesn’t bother to acknowledge my presence. Miyoung attempts to make it better only to make everything worse. She tries to include me in conversations that I don’t belong to.

I feel left out, and it was my fault. I shouldn’t even be here.

Baekhyun sneaks worried glances at me as much as he can, but I always just pat him reassuringly on the thigh.

I’m not okay. I feel like I’m being condemned for a crime I’ve yet to know that I’ve committed. Chanyeol—oh, he just puts the cherry on the top. I feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I should tell Baekhyun.

Maybe I should tell him everything after this. But I couldn’t. I don’t want to ruin his night. He’s having fun, or at least I hope so.

During dinner, I learn many things about Miyoung. She and Baekhyun were surgical residents together, but now she’s an EM doctor. And she loves it.

I excuse myself to the restroom, but it’s mostly because I’m tired of being responsible for the moody atmosphere. I leave to the patio, heart weighing heavily inside my chest.

I don’t know why I feel so guilty, but I don’t get much time contemplating. Footsteps pad behind me, and I figure it’s Baekhyun. With the way things have been going tonight, I’m sure he has questions. Questions that I may or may not want to answer.

So when I turn around to see Chanyeol, I jump a good few feet.

His expression is grim, and I tense, preparing for what’s about to come.

“I needed a smoke,” he grunts, tapping a box of cigarettes until one pops out.

“I’ll just—uh—move out of your way.”

He holds up a hand, putting me to a stop, and so I glance at him again. “There’s no need. I’ll be quick.”

I nod numbly and look toward the ocean restlessly, but this time, I’m not as lucky. Water isn’t doing the trick. I’m afraid. I realize that Chanyeol’s anger is much more extensive than I’ve expected.

“Why are you here?” He asks. His tone is mostly indifferent, but I can’t be fooled. I’ve done it many times. Pretend to be indifferent when I feel anything but that.

“She asked me to. I couldn’t turn her down,” I tell him weakly.

Chanyeol takes a long drag from his cigarette. “You probably think I’m pissed at you for what you’ve done to Mi.”

“Aren’t you?”

He scoffs. “I’m disgusted. I don’t understand how you can enter all of our lives again, playing this charade.”

“I’ve never thought of this as a game. Baekhyun isn’t a fucking game to me,” I snap, no longer caring about being amiable.

“His sister is dead.”

For a second there, I couldn’t feel myself hear him. “No, she isn’t,” I protest, exhaling a shaky breath. “What’s your point?”

“That he hasn’t told you his sister is dead. He may not remember, but for an entire fucking year, I investigated. I know for a fact what happened the night she was murdered. How could I not? My brother was too.”

I couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to say. I didn’t want to understand. “Taeyong’s dead?” I ask, not sure if I’m breathing anymore.

“And you know who killed them,” he alleges.

My throat constricts. He’s right. And I’m piecing it together whether I want to or not. “Yes,” I whisper, dropping to the floor because I can’t stand for another second.

“She followed you,” he continues. “The two of them, actually.”

“There’s no way,” I insist. “How—“ It clicks, and I shut my mouth, clutching my head.

Chanyeol’s eyes are red. I couldn’t quite tell if it was from rage or hurt. “They needed an eye witness, and you _ran_ away.”

My lips tremble, and I shake my head over and over again. I _need_ to erase the words from the past fifteen minutes. “Are you going to tell Baekhyun?”

His jaw tightens. “What? Are you afraid he’ll hate you?”

I can’t say anything to that. He’s right. I am. I let _him_ get away. And he’s still getting away with everything.

Chanyeol takes my silence as confirmation. He must think I’m pathetic, and honestly, where’s the lie in that? “Don’t worry about tainting your track record. No one detests you more than I do. What’s one more?”

//

My phone is blowing up with calls and text messages. It must be Baekhyun who’s calling me. I throw it in the furthest corner that I can find. Then, I hide away in the shower.

It’s the only place that feels inviting at the moment. I’m alone, and I’m starting to think that that’s all I’m destined for.

My body wracks, hot tears falling, but it isn’t like I can feel it under the steaming water jetting over me.

I curl tighter around myself, trying desperately to hold my pieces together. But I can’t. It’s falling out, toppling away from me before I can catch.

I hear the faint sound of a door slamming. Several minutes later, the entrance to the bathroom opens.

Baekhyun is livid. I don’t blame him.

To my surprise, he kneels in front of me, pulling me into his chest.

“This was a mistake,” I say, my voice ravaged with sobs. “I told you—I told you I’m a fuck up. I’m going to ruin your life. I’ll take away everything you love, and the longer you stay, the more you’ll h-hate me.”

He wounds his arms tighter around me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You _know._ You know, don’t you?”

Baekhyun nods. “Yeah.”


	20. dubious

**[haeeun]**

[2014-2016; past]

I’ve had a lot of bad days. Days when I find out I’m being given back to foster care. Days when the police find my whereabouts. But it was fine. Everything lay in predictability.

I could tell what kind of family they were going to assign me to. I could fake a smile for a few days—maybe even a few months. I was fine. I knew it wasn’t going to be permanent.

But living with Baekhyun is different. I didn’t know what I would do once I turned 18, which had been the cutoff for our deal.

So when I tell you that I’m pretty sure no other day will top this stormy day. Because today? Today was the worst day of my life.

“Why are you acting so weird?” I ask, poking at my salad.

Joori laughs, but it’s unlike her. She sounds fragile, and she is anything but that. “I’m not. You’re the weird one.”

“Because it’s so weird to ask a simple question when I’m not the one who’s been checking my watch for the last hour.”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you done?”

“Joo, I’ve been done for a while now.”

“Well, how about we go see a movie?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s 10 PM. We won’t be home until midnight. Aren’t you worried that your brother will hunt us down?”

Joori dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “We’ll be fine. He won’t even notice.”

“It’s a weekday. We have school tomorrow.”

“You’re so uptight. Live a little,” she urges, throwing her hands up dramatically.

“I have sex with your brother. I don’t know what you mean by telling me to live a little more.”

Joori slaps my arm. “That’s an unfair advantage.”

“It isn’t an advantage.”

“Totally is. You get to have infinite sex.”

“You can too.”

“Yeah, but it’s like…missing something?”

I raise my eyebrows, leaning back in my seat. “Sex doesn’t get any better.”

She yawns. “Don’t ruin my dreams.”

“You look as if you could sleep in the chair, and you’re telling me that you want to go see a movie?”

Joori ignores this and moves to stand. “Look, I just don’t want to go home.”

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“I am not.”

I fix a look at her, and in the end, she drives us home. There’s no way I’m imagining this. She looks more restless than usual. Joori jumps to the door, her eyes wide.

“What? Why are you blocking the—“ I almost wish I’d stayed behind her.

Baekhyun isn’t alone. He’s with someone. She’s dressed up professionally. I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it’s almost midnight. For all I know, she could be a friend, but I really doubt it. Their body language begs to differ.

His eyes fall from hers to Joori. Then, he meets mine. His expression mirrors his sister.

“Miyoung, can we talk tomorrow?” He asks briefly.

The woman opposite him stares between us. Her eyebrows draw together as she comes to conclusions.

I force myself to smile. “It’s fine. I’ve overstayed.”

Joori tugs at my arm the minute I turn, but she lets go from the glare I send her.

“From Baekhyun, I expected it, but from you? I thought you were my friend,” I whisper, feeling the betrayal pierce my organs.

She shakes her head, tears falling. “Let me explain—“

“There’s no need. I get it. Goodbye, Joori.”

“Where did you go last night?”

I train my eyes out the window of the coffee shop. I was afraid that I would cave the minute I looked at him—really looked at him.

Who was I fooling? He looked like a mess, not any less exhausted than I was.

“Can you at least eat something, please? I know you didn’t have anything today.”

I grit my teeth. “I can’t. You don’t think I tried? I can’t hold anything down without wanting to throw up.”

“We’re not together.”

I laugh deprecatingly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? You’re telling me a woman of that caliber came to your place in the middle of the night to be your friend? Did you suddenly need friendship advice? You two were having a serious discussion. Do I honestly look that naive to you?”

“We’re separated, Eun. She came back to sign divorce papers.”

My rage catches me by the throat and squeezes. I’m choking. “You’re _married_?”

Baekhyun hesitates to answer. “Not for long.”

“When were you going to fucking tell me?”

“I was going to tell you—“

My head jerks back. “No, you weren’t.”

He’s quiet now, which means I’m right.

I continue with anger seething inside, “I mean—why would you, right? You probably thought your marriage was going to be over before I could find out. Who do you think I am? I deserve to know at least this.”

“Eun—“

I hold up my palm. “Don’t try to make me rationalize my anger.”

“Okay,” he whispers, falling into his seat.

I swipe the back of my hand harshly over my eyes, masking signs of weakness. “I tried to understand when you didn’t show signs of wanting to introduce me to anyone important in your life. I loved you enough to care about your reputation. I put up with it. The secrecy. _All_ of it. I sacrificed a lot in this relationship, but what about you? Since when did you think it was okay to take advantage of me? You must think I’m pathetic—that I’ll fucking run right back to you. _No_ , Baekhyun. You lied to me. And do you know the one valuable lesson I’ve learned from being trampled on? Everything is bound to happen.”

I stand up on shaky legs, finally looking right at him. “Honesty, Baekhyun, that’s all I’d ever ask of you. So, _please_ don’t look for me. I never want to see you again. I can take a beating. I can take verbal abuse. But this? You tore away the only thing that ever mattered—my _trust_.”

[2019-2020; present]

“Baekhyun,” I call out, unsure of what to do. “I don’t care about it anymore. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You _ran_ away,” Baekhyun argues.

“Temporarily. I wasn’t going to break down in a public place.”

He tugs my wet shirt off of me. “I was worried about you.”

“You’re always worried about me.”

He glares at me. “I can’t believe I’m not being paid to babysit.”

“Can I remind you that you hid the fact that you knew about all of this?”

Baekhyun grimaces, biting down on his bottom lip. I suddenly feel a pang of guilt. I’m the one who’s going to hell for hiding things.

“Why did you leave? You could’ve finished dinner,” I mutter, stepping out of my wet pants.

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you starve by yourself,” he grumbles, offended that I would suggest otherwise.

I raise my arms, letting him slip his shirt over me. “So what? We starve together?”

“Room service, Einstein. What do you want?” He asks, heading over to the phone on the nightstand.

I smile to myself. “I’m not hungry.”

“My services extend to more than just food,” Baekhyun offers, the hint of a smile ghosting his cheeks.

I drop myself at the bedside, bringing my arms around his waist. “Our life sucks. I feel like fate actively tries to dismantle us.”

Baekhyun chuckles, dropping himself beside me. “I think we’re stronger than that.”

“I mean—we better fucking be. I didn’t do all that angst for nothing.”

He lies back, bringing me with him. I take this opportunity to climb on top of him. Baekhyun tilts his head, his eyes catching in the light. I can see myself in them, and it looks a lot like fondness. _What a sap_ , I think to myself.

“So, where did you go?” Baekhyun brings up. “After you left me.”

“Around,” I answer curtly.

He squints in my direction. “Around can mean a lot of things, babe.”

“Why does it matter? It’s over,” I dissent, eyebrows furrowed.

“I know it is, but—“

Sighing, I finally find it in me to answer him. “Homeless shelters, my friends—like I said I went around, but eventually, I was put back into foster care. Tamara found me last year.”

He makes that face I hate—the one where he holds all the blame to himself. I knew telling him would exhibit this reaction. But, he surprises me with his next words. A good surprise. “I guess we’re both a little fucked up, hm?”

It gets a little laugh out of me, and I lower myself to him. “I think that’s a reasonable claim to make.”

“I won’t take your home from you ever again,” he whispers, his voice dipping intimately. Shivers run down my spine like electricity.

“Depends on perspective.”

There’s a slight tilt of his head, so I decide to be specific. “You’re my _home_.”

Baekhyun looks away, cheeks blazing. “You can’t just say that out of nowhere.”

I kiss the corner of his lips, making him turn to me again. He’s mesmerizing in this light—his soft blonde hair sticking out characteristically, his searing boy blush, and his beautiful eyes that only look right at me—and so, I intuitively move my hand to caress his cheek. The energy intensifies around us.

My body heats, and I know that we’re both thinking of the same thing. Baekhyun doesn’t move. He’s doing it on purpose. I have a feeling he’s waiting for me, but I can’t wait anymore because I’ve already captured his lips.

He kisses me slowly, setting the pace. I grin, satisfied when I roll my hips against his. He tells me that I’m perfect on him.

I move from his lips, nipping, and biting along his neck. Baekhyun dislikes many things, but when you find what he likes, it’s gratifying. His unabashed moans. The throaty way he murmurs my name. And his hands that tighten around me possessively.

_Mine._

I’m pretty sure I said that aloud because his lips upturn in a split second, hands flying behind my neck—squeezing.

I reach behind his shirt, feeling the smooth flatness of his stomach. He lifts his back, allowing me to pull his shirt off.

Baekhyun reaches up, kissing my neck and sucking. “You shouldn’t leave marks,” I tsk.

“Make me,” he teases, eyes flashing with playfulness.

I feign exasperation. “Alright, do you want a hooker or a virtuous girlfriend to accompany you tomorrow?”

“You’re more of the first one,” he snipes, pulling my shirt off of me. “How about here?” Baekhyun asks, but funny enough; he doesn’t seem to be asking for permission. He sucks on the top of my breast, leaving splotches of red and purple.

“I think you’re an actual kid,” I comment offhandedly.

“I bet that I can satisfy you more than your kid classmates,” he challenges.

I push his chest down, blowing a raspberry. “No, I think I’m feeling quite the opposite.”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows as I tug away my pants. His Adam’s apple dips, eyes boldly trailing down my body. I laugh softly, shaking my head slightly in amusement. He shrugs, pretending that he hadn’t just been caught.

“I like that you appreciate me,” I tell him, propping him up with me.

He makes a sound of question. “Really?”

“I like that you appreciate my scars.” I feel particularly vulnerable, but Baekhyun isn’t perturbed one bit as he trails his fingers across the expanse of my skin.

“What else do you like?” His voice drops dangerously low.

“And I appreciate the crashing orgasms,” I answer with a smile.

He brushes our lips together, coaxing me up until I slowly slide down on his length.

I watch the way his eyes flutter close, mouth opening slightly—basking in the feeling of being inside. It makes me _warm_ and appreciated.

And honestly, at this point, I’d probably give him anything.

I arch my back, allowing myself to fall deeper—and god, it’s fucking good. Baekhyun falls on his back, and every time I’m up, the burn is worth every part of the drop. No one can make me feel this way, and I want it that way. Forever.

I lose my rhythm, but he helps with his hands tucked under my ass, lifting me—allowing me to lead. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, hanging my head. I’m exhausted, but he feels sublime, and being around him is addictive.

He finishes before me, but he continues snapping his hips upwards. It doesn’t take long until I stumble into my high, my vision blacking. Everything stops, and I fall onto his chest, clutching the sheets around us.

Baekhyun flips me over on my back, eyes gleaming with intent. He hovers over me, beckoning me, raggedly, “I’m not done with you.”

My head is still cloudy, but he’s partly right. I’m the one not done with him. I haven’t had enough.


	21. veracity

**[haeeun]**

In all normalcy, I’d usually be content with being Baekhyun’s little spoon. On habit, I bury my face in his neck.

“Hey,” he breathes.

I beam and peck his pretty lips in response. “What time does Miyoung and Chanyeol’s wedding begin?”

Baekhyun’s eyes drift to the ceiling, where he stares, blinking and conjuring his brain to work. “I think—at one?”

I turn from him to glance at the alarm clock on the bed, and in glaring red numbers, it reads twelve-thirty. I shoot up from the bed and out of his warms. “We’re late!” I shout, hurriedly standing.

He stumbles out of bed, too, a panic-stricken look on his face. “Do you want to shower first?”

My eyebrows furrow. “No time—come on,” I beckon him, grabbing his arm and dragging him with me.

We somehow manage to forget that we’re both naked in an enclosed space. I rush to shampoo my hair and scrub the smell of sex off my skin. He hasn’t even tried to touch me, miraculously.

We finish in ten. I hop out, drying myself with the towel as fast as humanly possible. “Did you forget to set the alarm?” I ask, running to my suitcase to throw on my thong and find my pasties.

“I usually wake before noon,” he murmurs.

I fix him a look of disbelief. “Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have been touchy all night.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Take that back. You wanted it.”

“Okay, I have no time to entertain you. Get your ass in your clothes right now, or I’m dragging you to the wedding whether or not you have any on.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes, ‘mam.” Then, he rushes off to to the closet to find his suit that he hung up the day before.

“I have no time for makeup. I was supposed to help her get ready,” I groan in distress, running a hand through my knotted hair.

He pats my shoulder as I get into my dress. “It’s okay. You’re perfectly pretty without any.”

I shoot him a murderous—on the verge of castrating—glare. He throws his hands up, surrendering. “We wouldn’t be having this problem if you’d set the alarm.”

Baekhyun crosses his arms. “Okay, and what about you? Why is it my responsibility to set one?”

I take a minute to inhale and exhale. “Oh—I don’t know. Maybe because someone assured me he had it all figured out!”

He pales, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m just really stressed out. Are you ready?” I ask, hands busy straightening out my hair.

Baekhyun nods. “Yeah, just gotta find my tie. How do I look?”

I approach him, patting and brushing over his suit. Then, I stare at the cowlick curling off the top of his head. After having an intense battle with it, I fix his tie on him. “You look dashing,” I finally answer, letting my dimples greet him.

“I appreciate you,” he tells me, cupping my face.

“I appreciate you too, but we have to get a move on. What time is it?”

He moves to pull out his phone. ”Twelve, fifty-five.” Our eyes widen at the same time, and I sprint across the room to find my wallet and lipstick. He dashes to find his wallet.

“Crap, crap, crap. I can’t find my wallet. Does my tie look okay?” He asks, body half turned to me.

I nod hurriedly. “Beautiful. Your wallet’s in the living room.” I grab my smaller clutch out of my luggage and sort out the things I need from my main purse. “Okay, cool.” I take a breather. “I’m ready. Are you done, Bae?”

He throws open the door, laughing when he realizes we hadn’t bothered to lock up. Baekhyun ushers me out of the place; this time, he makes sure to lock our room.

My boyfriend waves me goodbye after we reach the venue, and I hurry to find Miyoung’s whereabouts. After asking around, I manage to get there.

“Sorry I’m late!” I proclaim, throwing my clutch down on the coffee table with the others.

Miyoung’s silvery laugh fills the room. Okay, good, she’s not mad. She’s also already in her dress and is currently in the middle of getting her makeup done. “It’s okay, Hae. My sister was here to help.” She signals to a girl who looks to be a little bit older than me.

Her sister waves at me. “Hi, I’m Ahyoung. You must be the one Miyoung terrorized.”

I let out a tight laugh, and she throws me a sympathetic look. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Miyoung folds her arm across her chest. “I’m committed and well over it.”

“And you’re beautiful,” I add, rushing up to them. “So, what’ve we got?”

Miyoung pats down her hair. “I’m actually almost done, but you, my dear, need a touch-up. Rough night?” She winks at me.

Ahyoung rolls her eyes. “Imagine having regular sex.”

“Oh, I know. Couldn’t be you,” Miyoung teases.

Ahyoung proceeds to shake her head in exasperation. “I’m done with your lips. Do you need anything else?”

Miyoung tells her, no, pointing to me in the meantime. “Would you help her get ready? She needs some work.”

I glance between the two of them skeptically. “Guys, it’s fine. I don’t know if we have enough time—“

“Nonsense,” Ahyoung cuts me off, clapping her hands. “Leave it to the professional, okay? Besides, I’ve done Mi’s makeup countless times since she’s kind of an idiot at being a girl. It’ll only take ten.”

Miyoung stands, ignoring her sister. “I’ll do your hair!”

I’ve been completely elevated into a new person, and dare I say, Ahyoung is a goddess. She’s outdone herself because I don’t think I’ve ever looked this amazing. She’s given me a glam look that goes with my blush-colored dress. I want to hug the two of them for this.

But we have no time. Someone comes to tell us that the music has started. Ahyoung rushes to her seat with Miyoung’s other family members. I choose to stand in the back as Miyoung starts to walk down the aisle with her father beside her.

Now that I get to see her from afar, she’s glowing and beyond beautiful. Her dress is made from silk, a creamed color that brings out the color of her skin. Her square neckline shows off her gorgeous collarbones, and the dress flows behind as she walks toward her to-be husband.

Chanyeol dons a crisp black suit. His hair is mussed up, and he dominates the entire room. I can’t stop smiling as I watch Chanyeol’s expression when he sees her. He looks absolutely happy, and his smile is blinding. If anyone had seen him here and then, they’d agree that he is the happiest man on earth.

My eyes linger over their intertwine hands when Miyoung reaches the aisle. I don’t miss the subtle wink in from her dad to Chanyeol, stifling an amused laugh.

Baekhyun catches my brief smile. He stands a little behind Chanyeol to the right. Though, he doesn’t have his attention on the couple that everyone’s eyes are on.

He has his eyes trained on me, completely lost about what’s happening around him. And once I realize that I feel butterflies—butterflies you get when you first lay eyes on that person. And after meeting that person, things will never be the same.

Baekhyun is breathtaking in his suit, and if you ask me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him without my stomach turning into mush. Warmth floods my chest, and my heart swells. He smiles, mouthing, _you’re beautiful._

I reciprocate _you too._

His eyes twinkle in the light, and this is it. This is when my life changes forever.

_I love you._

The words didn’t come from me.

Miyoung had just finished her solo dance with Chanyeol, and I wave at her from across the room. With bright smiles, she bounces across the dance floor and plops down beside me. “Oh my god, my shoes are _killing_ me. This is why I only wear sneakers. Have you seen a doctor wear heels? I mean—we’re not fucking crazy.”

I laugh, bringing her in for a mini side hug. “Your dresses have all been so pretty today. The decoration for the venue is gorgeous too.”

I wasn’t lying. Miyoung and Chanyeol probably spent a fortune on their wedding. Multicolored hyacinths were strung along the wedding aisle and used in their party venue. White and silvery purple had been her motif, including elaborate thank-you cards alternating between those two colors.

The couple held their afterparty outside under the night sky. A dozen or so torches lit up the event. Even though we were in public, the two made it, so we were in the privacy of our own company— tall viridescent bushes and tropical trees blocking the outside world.

She titters, “honestly. Chanyeol and I weren’t very active. We have to thoroughly thank our wedding planner for this—if he’s not about to rip all his hair out from the times we’ve flaked out because we were swamped.”

“How do you feel?” I ask, leaning in for her to hear me over the blaring music.

Her eyes shine, and she smiles with flushed cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy in my life. Back when I met you, I was really insecure about myself.”

I blink owlishly. “ _What?_ ”

She softly clasps her hands together while letting out a deprecating chuckle. “At first, I thought I loved Baekhyun. He was my childhood friend—you know. I wasn’t good at talking to boys when I was growing up, and Baekhyun was the only one around. I always told him that we were going to get married. It was a joke, but somehow—along the line—I began to believe that he was the only one for me.”

Miyoung pauses, her eyes flickering with an apology. “Our marriage wasn’t what I’d imagined. We missed our fucking honeymoon—first of all. But I wasn’t happy. I ended up avoiding him.” She releases a shaky breath, running her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what we were thinking back then. I didn’t love him. And then you came along. I pretended not to notice. His calls and texts lessened, and he stopped trying within a month together.” She swallows, tears welling.

“I didn’t know what I’d wanted, Hae. I just wanted my best friend back. Realize I didn’t say, husband? I never thought of him that way. But I was jealous of you. You stole his attention in a blink of an eye. And I was growing more and more miserable from surgical residency. I think the divorce was my biggest wake-up call. I just—I don’t know—I snapped out of my lifelong trance. I dropped everything that I hated. I found my calling, and then, I met Chanyeol.”

I offer her a smile. “Not missing out on that honeymoon this time, right?”

She shakes her head. “I am waiting to be sexed up and tanned, honey.” Her smile falls, and she flashes me a look of an apology again. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, Hae. That night when you walked in on us—I saw the way he looked at you. He’s never thought of me more than a friend. I’m sure of it. You’re it for him. You’ve always been.”

I find her hands and squeeze them, smiling encouragingly because I want her to know that all of this is behind me. She’s proven that she’s a sweet, genuine friend, and I really didn’t need much more. She squeezes back, appreciating.

“Girls.” A voice interrupts or little moment. We both look up to see Chanyeol peering at us.

My eyes flicker between the both of them. “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “You can have her back. I didn’t mean to hog her on your special night.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “No, I’m actually here to talk to you.” I can tell he’s embarrassed from the slow flush creeping across his cheeks.

My eyes widen a little in bewilderment. Miyoung snickers under breath, but her husband catches it, throwing her a glare. She has her palms up, already getting out of her seat. “Fun talk, Hae. And you, if she leaves crying. I will castrate you.”

Chanyeol shuffles on his feet.

Then, she smiles tenderly. “Come to me when you’re done,” she bids.

He quickly takes her seat, and I glance at his slouchy figure, unsure of what to expect. “I was projecting,” he finally tells me after a long beat of uncomfortable silence. “For the longest time, I kept telling myself that all I needed was one piece of evidence. I needed to put that asshole in jail for eternity. I hadn’t known what your deal was with him. I realized that not everything that I know is right. You’re not a piece of evidence. You’re a victim. So, I want to tell you that I’d been wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”

I open my mouth only to close it, and before I realize it, I’m crying. “Sorry—“ I sniffle, brushing away the streaks of tears. “I don’t know why—thank you, Chanyeol. I’m ready to put this all behind us.”

He nods, expression softening. “Of course, and Haeeun, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for everything.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I tell him earnestly.

Chanyeol smirks. “Give yourself some credit. You made my asshole friend more pleasant to be around. That’s a feat in itself.”

Before I can manage to say anything, Miyoung is streaking from across the room. Chanyeol automatically shoots out of his seat and rushes toward her. I’m still in an awed state from what had happened just ten minutes ago, so it takes me a minute. But when I follow him—only to find Baekhyun surrounded, Miyoung kneeling by his side—I almost trip on my heels, sliding down beside him.

“Baekhyun?” I pat his cheeks gently, trying to get him to answer me.

Miyoung’s gaze falls on me, her eyes wide. “He can’t breathe. He’s going into anaphylactic shock.”

I undo his tie and undo a couple of buttons to expand his airway, and she’s right. There are red splotches on his neck and collarbone. It looks a lot like a rash.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asks expectantly.

“He’s having an allergic reaction to something,” Miyoung explains. “We need an EpiPen. Does anyone have an Epipen?” She shouts at the crowd of people.

“Cucumber,” I remember seeing a couple of pieces in the salad they’d given us earlier.

Chanyeol groans, “fuck, he’s allergic to cucumbers.”

Someone offers one of their EpiPen, and Miyoung inserts the pen in the middle of his thigh. Baekhyun gasps, falling forward, and I reach out to steady him. He’s slowing, catching his breath back.

“I already called the paramedics. They’re on their way,” Chanyeol mentions, reaching to help me get Baekhyun off of the ground.

Miyoung proceeds to tell everyone to take a step back, and I’ve honestly never been more grateful to anyone in my entire life.

“Come on—let’s go to the front so they can easily find us,” I announce, keeping my tone as steady as possible.

Chanyeol helps me set him down on the nearest bench. I move to the end of the bench, letting Baekhyun lie on my lap. He leaves us to be alone after asking if I would be okay.

“Thanks, babe. That must’ve been a scare. I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I reach down, kissing his lips chastely. “Can we not—like—apologize for getting into life-and-death situations?”

Baekhyun suddenly has that look at his eyes. A sort of wild and unruly one like he’s just come to a realization. He’s quiet, and I don’t pry because I’m worried that his sensor receptors are still overloaded from his allergic reaction.

“I love you.” The words come out of nowhere, and the only thing that comes to me is to laugh.

I trace the red splotches—currently fading. “What a coincidence. I do too.”

He shakes his head firmly, his eyes flashing with determination. “This feeling. It’s overwhelming. I’m so…” He does that thing where he juts out his lips and stares to the sky as if the words will suddenly come to him.

So, I put him out of misery. “Lost, scared?”

He nods reluctantly. “A little bit, but I don’t know if that’s it. When I look at you, my chest feels full. I can’t help but smile. And even though I’m scared of this feeling, I can get through it. You give me the power to. I know I sound cheesy as fuck, but I—ugh—I can’t even describe it if you were to ask me.” I watch him slump as he gives up, hands covering his face.

“Can I ask you something?”

He drops his hands, staring fixedly at me. “What is it?”

“Be honest with me. Can you remember everything?”

Baekhyun’s face falls slack. “Will you hate me?”

I shake my head, laughing goodheartedly. “Why would I hate you for that? The point is we’re here, and the _point?_ It’s not you remembering. Look at us. We fought tooth and nail. I _left_ you—but look where we are now. I don’t care if you never get those memories back. We can make new ones. Every minute of every day—we have _time_ , and I’m not going anywhere. And, so, yes, I fucking love you, dearly.”

Baekhyun flashes me a brilliant smile that says more than words. My favorite smile. Because it’s the most authentic part of him, and I’m the only one in the world who gets to see this.

Red and white lights flash, distracting us from the moment. We break eye contact, turning to inspect the commotion. The paramedics arrive, and at this point, we are asked questions, and for safety measures, they offer to transport Baekhyun to the nearest hospital. I basically answer _yes_ for him, and he weakly follows them, nose wrinkling at me.

Before I can hop on with him, Chanyeol catches my arm. For a split second, I’m about to ask him if everything’s okay, but he interrupts, “that last thing I needed to say—you and him? You both have something special together, and it’s evident. So, please. Take care of him for me.” He gives me a brief pat on the arm and turns to leave.

When I get into the back of the ambulance truck, Baekhyun directs me with a questioning look. “What did he say?”

To this, I grin, kissing him. “We got his blessing.”

Baekhyun doesn’t hold back when he kisses me with the same grin.


	22. fruition

**[haeeun]**

On a normal day of his life, Jongin’s life was engulfed with nothing out of the ordinary predicaments. He wakes up to a _nice,_ quiet, empty room. As he pulls off his covers, he hears several knocks on his door, and it echoes in his enormous room. “Come in,” he beckons, his voice rasp—a sign that he’s still affected by sleep.

The door opens slowly and in steps his family’s maid. She greets him in the same superior voice of hers, and Jongin knows that she doesn’t really like him. After all, it must be hard for her to travel several yards in the morning from the main house to the cute—anything-but-small—side house because Jongin hasn’t had the privilege of being in the main house according to his parents.

Like everyone else, his maid favors his older brother. As he grew up, Jongin knew more about his family's inner workings than anyone ever gave him credit for. He knew that he was an afterthought—a ploy used to prevent a messy divorce. In the end, the divorce was inevitable, and guess who was blamed for it? Jongin.

Right—of course—it was his fault his parents found out the truth. The _fact_ that they never even loved each other and the marriage was to form a cohesive connection between the royalties of two families. His older brother actively craved validation, and he had a talent for kissing ass. It’s the reason why he was offered the CFO position to their father’s corporation.

Maybe it was a good thing that his parents held no expectations for him. Even when they were little, Jongin’s craving for validation was obsolete. His parents merely stepped on it.

His mother, especially, smudged her foot on his self-confidence and already then non-existent aspirations. He never forgot the night she told him that being a good boy meant living in the shadows of everyone else. Like he didn’t have a say over his parents or his older brother. Jongin would have money thrown at his face along with almost no self-respect. Because of the self-respect? All of it belonged to his parents and brother. He didn’t need it. No, there wasn’t any space.

Just like there wasn’t any space in his parents’ hearts to love him. But he was sure they didn’t do love. Loving his older brother was showing him off to their peers. Loving Jongin was telling him to be quiet.

But maybe that wasn’t the only reason for everyone’s notion of his inadequacy. Because _maybe—_ just maybe it had been because he didn’t care about the same things his parents did or his brother for that matter.

Get into an ivy league, attend sophisticated parties, date a reputable girl, and care about all of the things that other elitists thought had mattered.

Jongin presumes all of this meant kicking any sort of his individuality to the curb.

His maid instructs that food is ready for him downstairs and that his parents will not give him the privilege of their appearance because they are currently dissatisfied with him.

He should laugh because frankly, aren’t they always? When did his achievements matter over his brother’s? After all, his soccer championship for nationals was nothing compared to his brother’s summa cum laude or early MBA at just twenty-four.

Jongin smiles weakly—robotically almost. After his maid leaves, he glances around his room. And well, it’s empty, filled with only a nightstand and his bed. Jongin could’ve furnished it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For he was a coward, a coward that would only come to realize he wouldn’t belong anywhere, and not even a furnished room could change that.

Getting up, he dons his slippers quietly and pads outside of his room. His bathroom is enormous and luxurious, but it only makes Jongin feel detached. Is this him? The forgotten son of his legacy?

After pulling over a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, he decides that that was the best it would get for him. He proceeds to make his way downstairs. Jongin’s aware he has time for breakfast, but with the way his maid scorns over his appearance, his only appetite diminishes in an instance.

And so, like always, he gives her a slight nod of his head and walks out the door. She bids him goodbye and begins packing the food up without another word.

Jongin feels empty. Empty as he gets into his nice car. Empty as he drives out of his pristine neighborhood. Empty, as the girl whom he slept with last year, waves at him from her car.

He tries to ignore all of them. The gaudy things that he’s never deserved. Jongin begins to turn into Kyungsoo’s neighborhood to which he immediately screeches to a stop when he sees Kyungsoo dashing out on the street in panic-stricken movements.

He traces his best friend’s line of sight to see a young Kyungha wildly running around the cul-de-sac. Jongin snickers under his breath, pulling out his phone to capture the moment. Then, he parks at the nearest curb and runs out.

He has pretty good stamina for all the sports he participates in, so he manages to catch Kyungha, throwing her up in the air easily. She shrieks, laughing and slapping at his shoulder.

“Put me down.”

Jongin raises a brow at this. “Only if you promise to spare your brother from anymore mischief.”

Kyungsoo reaches them, gasping, “oh, thank fuck.” The latter reaches his arms out for Kyungha. Jongin finds himself wishing it was for him.

He shakes his head, hoisting Kyungha up, so her head naturally falls on his shoulder. “I’ll carry her back. You’re probably exhausted.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer, minus the wary glances he throws at Jongin every now and then as they make their back to his house.

Kyungsoo’s mom greets them with a beam, and she gratefully takes Kyungha, subsequently scolding her daughter for her antics.

“Jongin, honey—each morning is ease when you’re here,” she tells him, ruffling his hair with a motherlike adoration.

There’s honestly never a dull moment in the Do household. It was so unlike his home because Kyungsoo’s place was somewhere he’d actually look forward to. But maybe it was just a projection of his own feelings for Kyungsoo that steered him here. Jongin can’t seem to tell if he’s just lonely or simply craves for Kyungsoo’s undivided attention.

Sometimes, he grows jealous of how much Kyungsoo had cared about their other friend. Jongin cared about Haeeun too, but he wished Kyungsoo was his confidant and not just hers.

Then again, Jongin’s able to hide his problems well enough for it not to become an issue.

“You’re just in time for breakfast,” she chirps, tugging his arm.

Jongin’s lips curl upward, feeling her welcome wholeheartedly.

“You sweet boy, I wish I could just make you my son.”

Kyungsoo gasps. “And me?”

Kyungha snorts. “Talking about taking things out of context. You’re already her son.”

To which Jongin chuckles, which gets him a smack on the arm from Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo’s mom offers him coffee and practically a whole feast. He’s honestly too full to have another bite by the end of breakfast but is nicely harassed by Kyungsoo to take the damn lunchbox from mom.

As they’re leaving, his mom makes an offhanded comment. “You know what would be nice? If Kyungsoo made you my son in law.”

Kyungsoo proceeds to choke on his spit, cheeks blazing. Kyungha subtly winks at Jongin, and of course, he kisses her on the cheek for that.

The drive to school is silent, and Kyungsoo is learning on the window. He breaks the silence, prompting, “now that she’s gone, aren’t you lonely?”

“Who? Hae?”

“Yeah, Hae.”

Kyungsoo blows a raspberry. “Are you kidding? Of course not, stupid.”

Jongin feels his heart beating faster. Kyungsoo’s right about him being stupid. Who has heart palpitations from seemingly innocent words? “What?”

Kyungsoo pushes his free arm. “Because you’re here. Let me remind you; we’ve been best friends long before Hae came in the picture. Geez, how’d you get through school with that pea-sized brain?”

Jongin bites his lips, suppressing the urge to press the latter against the window and kiss the hell out of him. They pull into his parking spot.

As they get out, Kyungsoo stops him. “Where should we meet for our French project?”

“Your place,” he answers without a second thought.

Kyungsoo groans, “we can’t do today. My mom’s throwing a little get-together for her friends. I can’t focus well if the noise level is too high.” He scrunches his nose, and Jongin quickly notes that he wants to kiss that too. “How about…your place?”

Jongin’s eyes widen, panic bubbling in him. “What? No.”

His friend raises his eyebrows in response. “What do you mean, _no_? That’s not an answer. I’ll see you at Baekhyun’s.”

He waves Kyungsoo goodbye in a daze. _Well, shit_ , he thinks. Jongin has lines he never wants to cross.

The line between his personal life and the life he leads in front of his friends. It’s always been easy to distinguish that line with his friends. With them, he’s just silly ole’ Jong, driven by his irrational attraction to sex and a mild idiot.

But then, there’s his life—the life where he has to reduce his existence to particles of nothingness. It’s the only life he never wants to blur with the life he has with his friends.

Because once that happens, he won’t even know who he is. Is he the one his parents ingrained with their ideals? Or is the one who exaggerates every part of himself, a rebellious play? He can’t deal with Kyungsoo seeing that side of him, but Jongin’s approaching the end of the path.

He has _no_ choice.

The drive to his house is nerve-wracking. Jongin can’t tell where any of this is going to go. It could go a) very badly, or b) very, very badly. _God, Jongin, that’s the exact same thing._ He releases a withdrawn sigh, and Kyungsoo snaps his head in his direction. Jongin chews on his bottom lip, forgetting how sharp his friend was.

“Are you okay?”

He smiles weakly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” _Lie._ He had insomnia. Sleep wasn’t a thing he did.

Thankfully, Kyungsoo doesn’t raise any further concerns, but that doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach growing in size. By the time he’s pulled up in his garage, he has ascended from mild concern to anxiety, digging a spot for his proverbial funeral.

“Are your parents home?” Kyungsoo asks casually.

Jongin answers tightly, “if they are, they wouldn’t be here. They reside in the other house. It’s just me.”

Kyungsoo’s jaw unhinges. “No.” He continues shaking his head. “What? There’s no way you have an entire house to yourself.”

Jongin can’t bring himself to be happy about it. “Cool, right?”

“That’s fucking awesome—like what the heck do you even do here by yourself?” _Wallow in self-pity; he_ thinks—definitely not saying that aloud.

Jongin watches Kyungsoo swiftly get out of his car and rush to the doorstep. It makes him feel…warm, and for a second, he can’t grasp why in the earth he was feeling that way at his _home_.

He quickly unlocks the door, hearing his maid shuffle from the kitchen into the living room. “Master Kim? You’re…early today?” She comments but briefly falters in her steps when she catches Kyungsoo’s shocked expressions.

Jongin acknowledges her with a curt nod of his head. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles stoically. “I’m done with my primary duties, so I thought I would touch up around h—“

“Motherfucker—why is there a need for a Steinway? You don’t play, do you?” Kyungsoo notes unabashedly to his housekeeper’s hawkish gaze.

His continual obliviousness to his maid’s scrutiny makes her all the more ticked off as the seconds go by. Jongin is very much enjoying this.

Kyungsoo marches past her, not bothering to acknowledge that she’s even there. He proceeds to ask where Jongin’s room is.

He stifles a laugh, amused by Kyungsoo’s devilish nonchalance. He leads the boy to his room and gets a skeptical look from the latter.

“What the hell is this? Your room is as inviting as a morgue,” Kyungsoo declares.

He shrugs, keeping his expression neutral.

They begin on the project, and he’s busy typing away on his laptop. Kyungsoo glances back and forth from his screen to Jongin, and he pretends that he doesn’t notice.

“Is there a reason why you’re acting a little odd since we’ve arrived? I feel like ever since I brought the project up, you haven’t been saying much. Are you struggling?”

Jongin shakes his head, feigning cluelessness. “No, I’m okay. Just occupied by the work—I guess.”

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. “Okay, look, Hae does this thing all the time. Pretending to be slick about her lies, but in reality, she’s not. You’re also really garbage at it. Spill.”

He sighs. “Nothing is going on, Kyung. I’m really fine.”

Kyungsoo throws his hands up. “Oh my god, why are the two of you so hard-headed for no good reason? Like fuck, am I playing a supporting character in your lives or what?”

“There’s no reason to get heated,” Jongin snaps.

Kyungsoo glares at him. “You’re always dismissing me. Am I not important in your life?

“What—“ Jongin opens his mouth, closing it at the ridiculousness of Kyungsoo’s question. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Of course, you are. Can you please quit overanalyzing everything? I don’t need another person breathing down my neck.”

“Take that back, asshole,” Kyungsoo quips.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Where’s the fucking lie? Tell me, Kyungsoo.”

He’d crossed the line. In all the years of his life, he’s never once called Kyungsoo by his real name. Kyungsoo realizes this too, and his eyes grow red, instantly filling with tears.

Kyungsoo gets up on his feet, and Jongin sighs, knowing he’s about to bolt out the door. But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, Kyungsoo pushes him over, tackling him onto the floor. Jongin’s eyes grow wide, feeling hot tears drip onto his cheeks. “I— _how_ could you?”

Pain. That’s all Jongin can hear.

At this very moment, his maid bursts into his room with her perfect timing. She stops just a few feet away from them. “What in the world is going on? _Jongin—_ “ She uses that _tone_ with him. The tone she uses to project her superiority. He’d always hated it and now wasn’t an exception.

“Are you _gay_?” She asks, her voice grating his ears.

Hate crawls up his body, itching to pour out of every single crevice. Jongin’s gaze flickers from hers to Kyungsoo, and then he presses his lips against Kyungsoo’s.

Kyungsoo gasps, allowing Jongin to do what he’s always wanted. He’s simply kissing the fucking hell out of Kyungsoo, his best friend for almost his entire life—the person he loves the most in the world.

It doesn’t take very long for Kyungsoo to comply, and the two of them were far from done. It’d just been an eyesore to see that his maid was still standing there, unable to pick her jaw off of the floor.

Kyungsoo swoops in to save the day. “Can you spare us of your homophobic judgments for an eternity? Please?”

His maid turns robotically, heading out the door.

When she’s gone, Kyungsoo is still on top of him. Jongin is amazed this is happening. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes darting away from Kyungsoo.

“For what? Kissing me?”

“Yes?”

“You’re apologizing for the wrong thing, asshole.”

Jongin meets Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Then what should I be apologizing for?”

Kyungsoo cups his face and presses their lips together again. Jongin thinks he’s in heaven because the smaller boy’s lips are wonderful. They’re soft, and Kyungsoo tastes like strawberries. He gets lost in Kyungsoo, and he’s never been more okay with anything than this observation.

Jongin wonders if anything can be more perfect, and Kyungsoo’s answer perfectly satisfies every condition. “You should be sorry for being almost a decade late, Kim Jongin.”

The next day when Jongin wakes, there isn’t a sign of their maid. It only occurred to him after a few days that she quit, and frankly, he didn’t need her to see any evidence of Kyungsoo’s nudity in the morning.


	23. contemporary

**[haeeun]**

“I think you definitely misunderstood something,” Baekhyun begins, his voice curtailing with caution.

“What? What misunderstanding?” I ask, smiling.

He sighs. “Babe, this isn’t your home. You can’t just live here with me.”

I blow a raspberry. “Seriously? I thought you were going to tell me that you cheated on me or something.”

Baekhyun proceeds to blow a raspberry on my neck, to which I squirm and almost fall off of his couch. “How could you think so badly of me?”

“I just might if you don’t stop flirting with the psychology teacher,” I grunt, managing to regain my posture and elbowing him in the gut.

He opens his mouth in an offending gesture, ready to argue. “First of all, there’s a difference between being nice and flirting.”

I snort. “Are you sure she knows that when you let her fix your tie?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, pulling me back into him. “That was one time, and to be fair, she didn’t even ask.”

“You could tell her that you have a girlfriend,” I suggest, smiling close-toothed.

“And risk her stalking me?” He counters nonchalantly.

I immediately roll my eyes and move to stand to get away from his enormous ego the size of Mars. “I’m going home.”

He whines immediately, “no, why?”

I shake my arm, realizing that his grip is tighter than a baby kangaroo. “I thought you wanted me to go. You know—“ You pause to drop air quotes. “Seeing how this isn’t my home and all.”

“I was just testing you,” he remarks, successfully wrapping his arms around my hips and immobilizing me.

“So, you want me to live here with you?” I ask, testing the waters ever so gently.

Baekhyun drops his head back, eyes directed at me. “I never said that. You can’t live here.”

“I haven’t gone home in almost a week,” I deadpan, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Still—“

I nod. “Fine, let me go, and then, I’ll leave.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“Bae, you can’t just—“ I sputter out a sigh. “Make up your mind, mister sir. You can’t say one thing and mean the other. I’m not a psychic.”

Baekhyun childishly tsks. “Do better.”

“I can’t decide if this side of you is cute or makes me want to slap you across the face.”

“You’re mean.”

“Well, you’re a toddler in disguise. I don’t know what else to tell you, Baekhyun.”

His eyes darken ever so slightly.

“What?” I titter, jokingly trying to push his face away from me.

He frowns, tugging me on his lap until I land with a whoosh and a squeak.

“What?” I echo again, seeing that he hasn’t made any effort to answer my question.

Baekhyun pulls a plush throw on top of me and cuddles me again. “We’re finishing our movie.”

He’s acting a bit weird, but isn’t he always? I don’t bother to question and focus on the movie playing as I try to remember what it’d been about before Baekhyun decided to annoy me for the hell of it.

I feel cold air seep under the fabric of my sweatshirt—well, technically, his, but who’s going to tell? Decidedly curious, I glance down to see his fingers resting on my stomach. I turn around briefly, shooting him a weird look.

Baekhyun points to the TV. So, I turn back, dismissing him. His fingers drop lower, and I gasp when they trace the seams of my panties. Did I mention that I never wear actual pants when I’m with him?

My mouth falls open, and I groan, feeling him tickle the slit of my sex. Baekhyun leans into my ear, whispering, “I expect a full summary of this movie after. Pay attention.”

I turn around to protest, but he pulls his fingers away, smiling impishly. Between my legs, the heat stirs, and excitement races through me. I’d forgotten how much I missed him. Baekhyun was swamped with school this entire week, and many days, I’d sleep without him. But it was okay because all that mattered was when I woke up, legs tangled, and his arms tight around my navel.

The heat dissipates, and I feel cold. Annoyed. My gaze falls back to the movie, but I don’t even remember what happened before. Baekhyun kisses down my neck, sending millions of goosebumps across my skin. He reaches down again, and my breathing picks up.

He rolls his thumb on my clit, and I bend over, moans spilling incessantly. Then, I moan his name and tell him how much I love him, and if he left me, it’d never be the same.

Baekhyun pauses, pulling away. I tilt my head, staring at him. His pupils widen, and I can see myself in his eyes. Clearly.

I laugh quietly, rolling my eyes. “What?”

He leans in, pushing his forehead against mine. I breathe him in. He smells like my entire world. “Just—“ He’s quiet but sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone more than you.”

I bite my lip, trying to contain my happiness, but it’s almost impossible. He makes me happy, just being in the same vicinity as him. I push him down flat on his back. He falls slowly, eyes never leaving me.

I pull his pants down. He lifts his hips, and I peel it away, tossing it in oblivion. Baekhyun watches me with a hawkish gaze. Maybe it’s anticipation. I know how desperate I am to feel him again.

His eyes fall over my body, and he brings his hands under my shirt, tugging it off in one swift movement. Then, my panties are gone. His shirt is gone. And it’s just us.

I lift myself, and then, I sink slowly. Feeling every sensation he gives me. The heat that races within me. The breath that he steals. Deservingly. And he stretches me until I’m full, and he’s the only one I think about.

I watch him, feeling the pit of my stomach tug from the way his eyes fall close, and his mouth falls open. I lean onto him, feeling him against my walls. He’s where I want him to be, and I love that he doesn’t push me to lean back. I love that he lets me control.

I move slowly, so to account, I squeeze. It drives him crazy. He murmurs curses, digging his hands into my hips. He moves too, bringing his hips closer to me. Every time he meets me, I’m one step closer to falling over the edge.

I kiss him, and he kisses back earnestly, threading his fingers in my hair. When I pull back, our foreheads are touching. I can see his eyes. I can see every emotion that flashes through them. He feels the same but every time with him is different. He’s a new adventure I’m willing to explore. I can ignore the fear. I can ignore the harsh judgments, only for him.

I lift myself again all the way, and then, I let myself sink into him. Deep.

Then, I’m shaking, squeezing the material of the couch tightly. His eyes are shut too, and I think he feels it. He’s at the same place I am. Euphoria.

I let my head fall on him, snuggling against his neck. He pulls his arms around the small of my back.

“That was…” I breathe out, cheeks flushed.

“Amazing,” he finishes, kissing the tops of my head. “Thank you.”

I smile, tracing the indents of his ribs. He shivers, telling me to cut it out. I don’t listen, and he gives up.

I find a note in the morning.

_as much as i love seeing you here. i still think you should return home. your mother would be worried. i’ll see you at school. xx_

I do see him at school. Baekhyun didn’t wear his contacts today. He wore glasses, which annoys me more than it excites me. He’s attractive, and in glasses, he destroys the teacher fantasy.

I’m not the only one affected, and I’d rather have this image of him to myself. But, I don’t, and suddenly, all the girls in the entire school want his attention again.

I can see him shoot an apologetic look at me when I leave his classroom with Kyungsoo and Jongin. I let myself smile weakly, the pit of my stomach tugging. But it’s different. I’m anxious, and I don’t know why.

“Have you ever loved someone so much that you start doubting if reality is what it really is?” I ask quietly.

Kyungsoo hums, “that’s uncharacteristic of you.”

Jongin is the one who actually ponders my question. “Well, love blinds people, but I think it makes life a little more beautiful to look at.”

I turn my head slightly, catching sight of his classroom. “I guess so,” I murmur uneasily. Then, I offer to check up on Milan. She’s been a little weird lately.

Dismissive.

And she also got angry at me for dropping crumbs on the floor. There must’ve been something going on at home. I don’t pry—partly because I know how it feels.

She still doesn't tell us what’s wrong, and the times that we visit her gradually lessen. I guess it hurts me the most that it’s like she doesn’t care. I could understand, but everything felt weird about this.

Like she was hiding something from me.

When I go home, things aren’t better. I see Tamara’s car. It’s not that I don’t like her. She makes me feel unimportant. A feeling I’ve grown to hate. How many times did I have to watch my foster parents look at me like I was nothing more than a sliver of trash and turn to their child, eyes immediately changing and flashing with love?

I knew what it felt like to be unloved, but Tamara is just indifferent. She confuses me, and I’m not okay with that.

When I enter the house, I hear laughter. Frowning, I try to investigate, peering around the corner. I see the silhouette of a man. I can’t make him out very well, but I don’t know how to feel.

It’s unlike her to bring anyone home. Tamara has always been a spokesperson for strong, independent women. She told me that men were attachments—that she didn’t need them.

I don’t show my face because I know she didn’t care to check up on me. I turn to leave, but before I do, I hear her male companion mutter, “I wish I knew how to quit you.”

My heart immediately falls to my stomach, and my palms grow clammy. It’s a quote from _Brokeback Mountain._

Before my mom died, Jun would let me stay up and watch movies with him. He’d chosen that movie because he loved the message. Love can be condemned, but love follows you past death. He thought it was beautiful.

I did too before I knew he would take it liberally.

I drop my hands to my mouth, concealing my fast breathing. I’m sure of it. The man sitting across from Tamara. It’s Jun. I stumble away from the hiding spot as fast as I could. I accidentally knock over a glass on the counter, but I don’t turn back.

I just keep going, eyes burning with tears. I’m shaking in fright, afraid I’ll be brought back to the memories that I’ve tried to suppress.

I hear Tamara call my name. I ignore her, pushing out of the door like my life depended on it. I drive straight to Baekhyun, not looking back once.

When I reach his place, I collapse against the door, sobbing. Baekhyun’s neighbor is standing across from me. She reaches for me, but I move away. Nodding, she tells me that it would be okay, but I knew it wasn’t. She wanted me to feel better, but I don’t think I could.

I bite my lip, facing myself to calm down. I tell her that I’ll be fine. My smile is lost, but I turn to enter his apartment. I fall on his bed, curling under his covers. Then, I close my eyes and force myself to sleep.

Jun used to make clean up the girls he picked up. He’d dropped them at our place, giving me a meaningful look before he left to do who knows what.

He once brought me a girl with long, raven black hair. She was beautiful, but her eyes were dull. She couldn’t look at him. She kept her eyes distant.

I helped her wash up. She was dirty like she hadn’t attempted to clean herself off in weeks. I didn’t mind. I tried to make jokes to make her laugh, but she didn’t.

I gave up and resigned to feeding her. Then, I let her sleep in the guest room, but she wouldn’t go alone. So, I let her stay with me.

When I woke up, she was gone. Jun took me to breakfast that morning. I asked him where she went, and he told me not to worry about it. He gave her to the police, so she could get the help she needed.

I wanted to believe him, but I guess I knew deep down what was happening.

I found strands of her hair near the steps of the basement. I never went down there because Jun told me that he’d give me back to the foster care system if I did.

Back then, nothing scared me more than being abandoned again. Being heard the words “ _sorry, honey. You couldn’t get the love you deserved.”_ or “ _sorry, there’s going to be a next time.”_

I was young and impressionable, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew Jun didn’t just own a bakery. So, when he went on a supposed business trip, I tried to go down into the basement.

It was locked.

I would’ve given up, but I heard a voice. So, I picked the lock. The air was musty in the basement. It smelled like a combination of old air and blood.

I tiptoed down, but I’m not sure why I was sneaky when there wasn’t anyone. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone. At least.

I found her. The raven beauty. She was chained against the wall, hunched over. I dropped to my knees, watching her cough. Then, she looked at me, smiling dazedly.

“Am I in heaven?”

I shook my head, reaching to touch her face. Her eyes widened once she realized I’m real.

“You can’t be down here,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because he’ll—“ She closed her mouth, eyes focusing on me. “Is he your dad?”

I shrugged.

“He’s never done anything to hurt you?”

I shook my head. “Not really, no.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, but you still shouldn’t be down here. Go up, and never come back, okay?”

I frowned. “But what about you?”

She smiled, and even now, I knew it was fake. “I’ll be fine. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You look younger than me. You have a whole life ahead.”

“Why does it matter? Shouldn't I let you go? Or alert the authorities?”

She shakes her head. “He’ll just find me again.”

“Jun?”

She nods. “Yeah, he can’t let me go. I’m being sold to someone next week.”

I can’t comprehend her words. “Sold? Why would you be sold?”

Her eyes flash with pity. “You don’t know.”

“What don’t I know?”

“Your dad—he’s the leader of the biggest sex trafficking ring."


	24. purgatory

[haeeun]

Baekhyun wasn’t in bed when I woke up. He left another note on his spot. I curl to my side, snatching the note and holding it up.

_i love you eun_

It’s all he wrote. Messily strung on the small notecard. I didn’t know how a seemingly harmless note felt unnerving. I call him, but I go straight to voicemail.

When I go to school, something is wrong. Something is lingering in the atmosphere. Hatred. Jealousy.

Nothing feels right when I step into the hallway. I hear hushed voices. A shiver runs through me again, and I try to shake it off. _He's not here_ , I tell myself.

I couldn’t tell if I was talking about Jun or Baekhyun. Either way, it’d been ironic. I meet Kyungsoo and Jongin by my locker.

Everything is going normally. I get my things. The four phony plastics pass by me, not before snickering to themselves. Kyungsoo tries to jump them, but his boyfriend holds him back.

I found out the hard way. Walking in on them, and I knew even bleach wouldn’t erase the image of my two best friends going at it.

This time, they say something weird. I hear Baekhyun’s name and student in one sentence. My skin immediately breaks out into cold sweat.

I try to shake it off because maybe, I’d misheard. Jongin and Kyungsoo were talking amongst themselves like they hadn’t heard it at all.

When we go to first period, it’s even weirder. When we head to class, I can feel the tension in the air. There’s definitely something wrong. It’s in my teacher’s expression.

Everyone in the class is whispering intensely, ignoring my teacher’s shushing. I hear Baekhyun’s name bouncing around.

“I’ve always known there was something weird about him.”

“I just can’t believe he’s sleeping with someone that’s years younger than him.

“I can’t believe I _liked_ him. He’s disgusting.”

“Imagine fucking a student at his age, couldn’t be me. He’s practically an old man.”

And then they see me, and it feels like I’ve suddenly been thrown in a cage full of coyotes. Their snarls grow bigger.

Their eyes follow me like they know something I don’t. “Speaking of the devil,” someone murmurs.

Kyungsoo glares at every one of our classmates, barking out a, “what do you think you’re looking at?”

Some of our nicer peers divert their eyes, but the nastier ones, including Jisoo, remain on me. Her eyes are cold, but I’m surprised she doesn’t make a snarky remark.

I settle down on my desk to see words written in sharpie all over them. I exhale sharply, feeling my skin prickle with stares. They want to see my reaction, but I won’t give them the satisfaction.

Baekhyun doesn’t attend his class. Instead, there’s a substitute teacher who stands in front of the room with her arms crossed. My teacher finally has had enough and claps her hand. “Class.” Her voice is stern, and it steals everybody’s attention. “This is a baseless rumor, and it is a serious crime to slander a perfectly good person. This isn’t any of your business, so I’d like it if we could proceed with class without any other meaningless disruptions.”

Kyungsoo throws me an encouraging smile. “It’s just a rumor,” he mouths and pats me on the back when we take our seats.

I want to hope that it's only that.

I fully expect it to get worse when I’m called to the principal’s office. I’ve seen him in hour-long school assemblies that all my classmates use as nap time.

Mr. Vassar doesn’t look happy when I drop to the seat in front of him. He asks me if I’m aware of why I’ve been called.

I tell him simply that I don’t know. He doesn’t look convinced and doesn’t bother to beat around the bush.

“I’ve been informed that you’ve been having a sexual relationship with Mr. Byun,” he begins. His eyes disgustingly run down my body. As if he’s trying to size me up. I shiver, fully knowing what his intent is.

I let myself smile, which surprises him. “Yeah? Who was your informant? Was she credible?”

His eyebrows draw together as he leans back. “You’re not afraid.”

I scoff. “Why would I be afraid? He’s my math teacher.”

“My source tells me that sh— _they_ saw you together outside of school,” he prompts, not backing down.

I roll my eyes. “So, it’s a she. Is it a student? Are you fucking a student, Mr. Vassar?”

He takes a defensive stance. I’m right. He is. “You have no idea of the slander you’re throwing out. If your mother hadn’t made generous donations, then—“

“Then, what? You’d expel me? Risk losing the money? I dare you to expel me, but I can’t hope any better for you. You don’t want me to tell, do you? I don’t think your wife would be thrilled. Last time I heard, she was going through some rough chemotherapy.”

Mr. Vassar’s jaw grounds. “You will _not_ blackmail me.”

“Then, it must be true. You’re considering my offer,” I tease, flashing him a dimpled smile.

“You—“ He exhales angrily. “Not a word, Ms. Kang.”

I stand up, dusting my pants. “Not even a hush,” I reply, winking at him.

His features are taut, but he musters, “I can see why he enjoys your company.”

I turn halfway. “I never admitted to anything, but you, on the other hand, have. Don’t try me, Mr. Vassar.” I wave my cellphone at his face.

All of the colors drain from his face, and I leave the office, my smile falling.

Not even this small victory feels good. Not when Baekhyun hasn’t made any effort to contact me.

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asks during French class.

I don’t answer him and focus on coloring.

He doesn’t try to bother me for the rest of class time. Meanwhile, I color. I try to channel away my sorrow until I’ve broken the color pencil.

A sudden flash of anger blinds me, and I pick up the pencil, throwing it as hard as I can. It hits the whiteboard with a loud sound. I suddenly want to curl into a ball and cry.

I hate crying. I hate it more than anything. It’s draining, and I feel weak. I don’t want to be reminded of the girl I left behind. The girl I abandoned in that basement.

Madame is pissed and immediately springs into an interrogation of why I found it necessary to disrupt the class. I don’t answer her, and she tells me to stay after class.

The bell rings, and everyone leaves—all but my friends who wait for me.

Kyungsoo approaches me, interrupting Madame before she can speak. “What the fuck is going on with you today?”

“Nothing,” I bite out. God, I sound so fucking bitter. Like I’ve been dumped. Have I been dumped?

Jongin reaches for his boyfriend cautiously. “I’m sorry, Mme.”

Madame shakes her head. “It’s okay. Haeeun, I can see that something is going on. Next time, tell me instead of taking it out on a poor color pencil, d’accord?”

I nod weakly, turning to go, but Kyungsoo pulls me to a stop. “What are you hiding from me? Why are you always so fucking secretive? I’m your best friend. Why can’t you tell me?”

My eyes harden as my gaze flickers at him. “No, Kyungsoo. Back off. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Guys, no fighting—please,” Jongin begs.

“How can you decide it isn’t my business? Just like that? We’ve gone through so much this year. You promised no more secrets.”

I laugh. “We? What have you gone through? Kyungsoo, there’s a reason why secrets are secrets!”

“Don’t fucking say that. Everyone has different hardships—“

“Are you kidding me? Don’t lecture me about hardships when all you’ve gone through is a little closeted secret.”

Jongin intercedes angrily, “Haeeun, what the _fuck_?”

I drop my bag. “Fine, Kyungsoo. You want the answer to your first question? No, I’m not fucking okay. Not at all. Not since my life began. I’m an orphan. I had to claw my way out of crackhouses. The only people I ever love? They abandon me. It doesn’t matter how much I love them— _need_ them. They’re gone. Poof. Just like that. My boyfriend—“ I choke on a sob. “He won’t answer me. Not a single text. Not even a call. And I _need_ him. Especially now because of _Jun_.”

Kyungsoo covers his mouth, eyes wide with tears. “Jun?”

“My parent. My _rapist._ Are you happy now?” I ask, throwing my arms up.

“God, H-Hae. I’m so sorry,” Jongin whispers.

_Pity._ I could see it in their eyes. All of them. This is the secret I told myself I’d take to my grave. I’d never tell anyone. But when I did, I didn’t feel weak. At least not as weak as I thought I would.

“Don’t look at me that way,” I force out, trembling. “I don’t need anyone’s pity. Because, at the end of the day, that’s all you can fucking offer me. I needed help. I screamed. I scratched. I did everything I could, but it was too late. He lied to me. He said he’d never hurt me, and then, he did. And—I fucking hate him. He ruined me. I’m ruined. I—“

Madame pulls me into her arms, shaking her head. “Haeeun, this is not pity. Not from me, mon petit chou. We’re _survivors_.”

The raven beauty became my friend. I visited her often because Jun went away a lot. Her buyer backed out last minute. I remembered how angry Jun was. He didn’t know that I knew, but I could feel it.

She remained in the basement for a while. We exchange pleasantries. She asked me how the outside world was. I told her it was gray and ugly. It got her to smile, at least. She murmured that at least she wasn’t missing out on anything.

The smile didn’t reach her eyes. I asked her why she didn’t want to leave. She told me she was pregnant, and if she left, they would both die. I cried for her. I knew Jun personally, but I couldn’t fathom his actions.

How could this be the same man?

I bought her prenatal vitamins. I hid them in my underwear drawer. Jun wasn’t the type to snoop in my stuff, but I wanted to be safe.

I visited her again and again. A week became a month. Then, two. And three. I was careful. I’d never leave any traces.

Jun and I remained the same way. He made dinner. I cleaned up. He had business. I had school. I didn’t dare ask him about the raven beauty. I couldn’t risk it.

Then, I fucked up. I forgot to lock the door.

One night, I came down to check on her when he was gone. She wasn’t there. My heart raced with panic, and I tried searching for her upstairs. She wasn’t anywhere.

Then, I heard footsteps leading down the steps. I tried my best to hide, but he found me.

Jun found me.

I stared at him, eyes widening.

“Care to tell me what other bad things you’ve been up all the times I were gone?”

I shook my head frantically, backing into the wall. “I didn’t—“ I stumble over my words. “I only wanted to make sure she was safe.” 

He barked out a laugh. “You’ve been lying to me, P. How much of it was real?”

“I would never—“

“Imagine how sad I was when I found out you’ve been nursing the slut.”

I inhaled shakily, biting my lip to keep from crying.

Jun approached me, tugging his suit jacket off and tossing it. He rolls his sleeves up. The smell of his cologne is strong. I want to gag, but I don’t. I’m afraid. “She was my brightest star. Her bounty was wonderful. Millions. She could’ve bought us a bigger house. I could’ve sent you off to any college you wanted, but the bitch was pregnant.”

He spat across the floor. Then, his eyes focus on me again. “You know—I was going to sell you in the beginning. You had a different air about you. It didn’t matter that you came from the lowest of the lowest. You were beautiful.” He touched a strand of my hair. “I was drawn to you, but your mom—she protected you. That bitch.”

I shivered, feeling his hands on my thighs.

“I wish you could’ve seen her face at the moment of her last breath. When I told her what I would do to you if you acted up—“ His laugh is shrill and contemptuous. “Then, she died. Finally. You were all mine.”

His claps thundered within the walls of the basement. Every sound he made was intensified in the small room. I couldn't escape it. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears.

Jun tugged my arm, shackling one of them. Then, the other was also restrained. He kicked my ankles, and I sunk on my butt, yelping.

“Why don’t you show me what the slut taught you?”

My lips parted in fright, and he caught my chin with his hand, gripping tightly. I shook my head, trying to fight him off. He was stronger than me.

“I wasn’t going to do anything to you. At one point, you were like a daughter to me. But now? All I see is a bad girl, and bad girls _pay_.”

He pried my mouth open, overtaking me with rough kisses and bites. I shook and cried, but he never stopped. He didn’t care. It wasn’t even the betrayal that hit me.

Jun violated me in a number of ways. He fucked my mouth until I couldn’t feel the back of my throat anymore. He restricted what he called our “lovemaking hours” to a day at a time.

Before I could hear him, I could feel him come back to the basement. The hair on my skin would rise, and I’d feel chills.

Then, he’d sit in front of me. Talk about his day. Asked me about mine. I never answered. I was exhausted. I went on a hunger strike, but eventually, he force-fed me. He couldn’t have his sex toy dying on him, rotting in his basement.

Even though I wasn’t physically rotting, I felt my heart shrivel up and die.

He eventually made it down. He put his mouth on me—called me demeaning names. He defiled Sandra’s name as he fucked me.

I learned how to cope, how to distance myself from what was happening. I began counting backward from a hundred. I counted them slowly. Deliberately.

He never stayed longer than _29._

Then, one day, his basement door burst wide open. He didn’t come in.

The raven beauty did. She cried, seeing the way I looked. I couldn’t remember the last time I even bathed. I smiled at her, wishing I could just die. I felt guilty because if this was what she felt like for months, I could’ve done her better.

If I knew this was the outcome, I would’ve traded with her in a heartbeat.

She helped me escape. I didn’t ask how or why she came back. She told me her boyfriend was a cop, and she finally got enough evidence for a warrant.

When we made it up the stairs, she fell to her feet, screaming. There, five feet ahead of us, a man was lying around a pool of blood.

Jun was smiling at the two of us, carelessly spinning a gun in his hand.

He approached the two of us, and I regained enough strength to pull her off from the ground so we could escape.

She lagged behind, crying for her boyfriend. I dragged her to the door, but before we could get out, a loud gunshot sounded.

I turned to see her fall limb on the ground, her breathing slowing. I screamed for her, but it’d been muffled. After weeks in the basement, I didn’t know if I could ever feel like myself again.

Jun made his way to me, eyebrows raising as if he was challenging me to go—to leave. He was right. I couldn’t leave. I would die because Jun would come for me. Always.

I stood up, trembling. I let him approach me, but in a split second, I spotted the line of red that spilled down my thigh. I was bleeding. Why?

Then, it hit me. I was pregnant, and then I wasn’t anymore. My blood curled as I stood there, helplessly shaking.

I decided that I was going to run away. Not just for me, but for my unborn child. I was going to die with them.

Until I met the angel who lent me his hoodie. Until I fell in love.


	25. sanative

**[haeeun]**

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me hard-hitting questions?”

Dr. Oh is an impressive man who doesn’t show me an expression of annoyance. Well, I guess it’s his job.

He jots several things down in his notebook. I stare at him and realize that he looks a lot like his son. “Are you going to answer them?” He finally asks after a beat.

I stare out the window. “Probably not.”

He nods. “Why is that?”

“Isn’t that your job to tell me, doc?”

He doesn’t give me an inch. “My job is to help you become stronger to get past your adversities.”

“You sound like a TV commercial,” I note, fidgeting with the strap of my purse.

There’s a ghost of a smile. He looks like his son when he smiles, except Sehun’s smiles are guarded for different reasons. “Why did you decide to come here today?”

I think about this morning. The argument I got in with Kyungsoo. I’d stopped talking to him for a week now, and he finally had enough, barging into my room to tell me that I could mourn my losses and go to school at the same time.

I told him to butt out as usual, and it was none of his business how I wanted to conduct my life. He then proceeds to tell me that I’m starting to resemble a bum. That I’m living at my ex-boyfriend’s place, grasping at straws.

He tells me Baekhyun is never coming back, and I would be one of those pathetic women who are constantly hung up about their ex-boyfriends, and then, this is where it hurts. He tells me I would result to nothing.

At this point, Jongin is at a loss, and he can’t say anything over our screaming match. Finally, I tell him to shove it and that I never want to see him again.

Kyungsoo cries and barrels out of my room, and Jongin only looks at me with disappointment before leaving.

When I get up and almost collapse after nearly starving myself for a week, I come to the realization that maybe Kyungsoo is right.

I am fucking over my life, so I finally decide to look at my problems straight in the face. No running away. Nothing could be worse than the brink of death. And, trust me, I’ve been there many times.

I pick up the business card that Kyungsoo has kept stowed away for me.

“Kyungsoo cares about you. Do you care about him?” Dr. Oh asks me.

I roll my eyes. “Duh—of course, I do.”

“Then, why do you keep pushing him away?”

I don’t know the answer to this. Maybe I do, but I can’t say. I don’t answer because the clock strikes 5, and our session is over.

“Are you ever going to talk to him again?” Jongin asks me one day when I pick up his call. I’m lying in Baekhyun’s bed, buried under his covers as usual.

I play dumb. “Talk to who?”

My friend scoffs, “you’re really immature right now.”

My lips purse before I say, “that’s rich coming from you.”

Jongin hisses, but his tone picks up a lightheartedness. “I’m not going to be angry with you. You’re hurt, and you’re lashing out. I understand that, but you also need to think about some things Kyungsoo said. I heard bits from him, and he was too harsh on Baekhyun.” He pauses, heaving a sigh. “But, he’s also right about you needing to move on.”

“I don't want to move on,” I snap.

“Not like that, Hae. You need to start living again. You don’t have to forget him. That’s fine if you don't want to, but forgetting to eat? Not doing any schoolwork? Do you think Baekhyun will be happy if he finds out how you’ve been living after he left?”

I let that sink in. “I miss him. I don’t want to forget our memories.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

My friend is silent, and then he continues, “you won’t forget him, Hae. Two years ago, you both had something, right? You met again and connected. Don’t you think that this bond you both have is resilient? You just have to believe in that, and _please_ , start living your life again.”

“ _How_? How do I do that?” My voice comes out weak, but I know Jongin is right. He’s so completely good at this, consoling. I never realized he could be that person. I always thought Kyungsoo would be the one who was better at picking me up, but it seems like Jongin is. And after the fight with Kyungsoo, I didn’t think we could get past that.

I could hear the smile in his voice when he says, “well, maybe you can start by talking to Kyungsoo. I’m pretty sure he’s at your doorstep right now.”

I practically leap out of bed and run to the door. When I throw it open, my two best friends are beaming at me with groceries in their hands. Jongin waves his phone at me with a prominent cheekiness.

I rush into the comfort of my friends, and they greet me with big hugs.

“I missed you,” Kyungsoo breathes into my hair. I nod, pulling him in tighter.

Then, I pull away. “I didn’t mean what I said. The truth is: I can’t blame him no matter what. He’s everywhere, Kyungsoo. He saved me from myself.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. I love you, and we’re never going to fight like that again.”

“I love you too,” I whisper.

Jongin interrupts, clearing his throat. “As much as I love wholesome moments, my balls are shriveling here as we speak. Can I come in when you two decide to stop blocking the doorway?”

The three of us settle on Baekhyun’s couch. We’re all in arms touch, legs tangled over each other. My eyes are glued to the movie on the screen as I shovel Ben & Jerry’s into my mouth.

Kyungsoo grunts and tells me to fork some over. I shove it blindly in his direction. We’re watching cheesy romance movies, and it’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve never watched any romantic movies. No one told me that they were actually good.

“Heath Ledger is hot for no reason,” Kyungsoo comments.

Jongin makes a dissatisfied sound next to his boyfriend. “And dead.”

“Man, that sucks,” I lament. “

Kyungsoo snorts, “it’s the most depressing thing.”

“I’m pretty sure this is my favorite movie now. The letter part is ingenious, especially when she takes off running after saying she hated the fact that she didn’t hate him.” I point out.

Jongin cuts in, “yeah, but I’m kind of pissed he didn’t go after her right away. I don’t know why, but it really bothers me.”

“I enjoyed it.” We ignore Kyungsoo. He presses on, “you’re projecting, Hae. Baekhyun isn’t going to come back if you throw your entire heart out on a letter.”

I grunt, “yeah, well. I hope wherever he is—”

“That he’s safe?” Jongin offers.

I snort. “I hope he’s dead, Jong.”

Kyungsoo laughs nervously before interjecting, “so, another chick flick?”

Jongin makes zombie noises. “The things I do for the people I love!” He punches the air and begrudgingly moves to find another movie.

Kyungsoo turns to me in the meantime. “So, I’ve been thinking—“

“Why do I have a bad feeling?”

He waves his hand dismissively, clicking his tongue. “Always such a pessimist, you. No, I think you should try out for the track team. It’ll get your head clear. You like running, right?”

I make a face. “Not if it’s for competition.”

“But why not? It’s our senior year. It wouldn’t hurt to try. Besides, I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Why do you think I need fun right now?” I ask.

“Because I’m about to drill you everything you missed in school. You are getting a passing grade by the end of this semester, and we are all graduating.”

“Period!” Jongin hollers across from us.

Kyungsoo cracks a smile. “You’re so stupid sometimes, Jong.”

“That’s not what I recall happening last night. If I were so stupid, you wouldn’t have—“

I cringe, “hey! I’m still here!”

“Because I’m afraid of the outcome.”

Dr. Oh leans back, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Pardon?”

I straighten. “You asked me why I was pushing Kyungsoo away. I’m used to people discarding me after they get what they want from me. Hell, my boyfriend did the same thing.”

“Interesting observation, but have you ever thought about how your actions affect them? How did you feel when your boyfriend pushed you away?”

I bite my lip. “Shitty.”

“Where do you think the lies and secrets come from?” Dr. Oh’s questions are more probing this time, but he doesn’t condemn me for my actions.

“Genetics,” I answer half-heartedly.

“Sure, maybe that could be it, but in the nature vs. nurture debate, the heart of psychology, your behavior is also affected by the environment you grew up in. Don’t you think so?”

I look away. “So, you’re telling me I have abandonment issues? And terrible trust issues?”

Dr. Oh doesn’t give me a straight answer. “Well, I can’t say for sure. If that’s what you think.”

I nibble on my lip. “When I was 5, I always wondered why all the other kids would never return to foster care. I watched their parents like—love them, but mine? Well, they mostly used me. So, I always felt the need to protect myself. I didn’t have parents, so I had to learn the hard way.”

“How do you feel now? Do you still feel the need to protect yourself?”

I grow silent, staring off into space. “Not as often as I used to.”

“Why?”

I return his gaze. “I guess because my hardheaded friends finally beat it into me. I’m not alone anymore.”

If it wasn’t for Kyungsoo and Jongin towering over me in the bleachers, I wouldn’t have been here. They dragged me to the spring track tryouts, and I actually made it to the team. The coach, a burly man who always wears the most gaudy-colored tracksuits, is actually a pretty chill dude.

On the first day of practice, instead of conditioning, he let us play icebreakers in the form of a relay. How does that work? Oh, I wouldn’t know.

Though, I’m starting to think he’s actually the spawn of satan now. Practice is killer, but running is definitely fun. Kyungsoo, sigh, is right again. Running with friends, people other than Kyungsoo and Jongin, was actually a spirit-lifter. One, they could relate to the torture of Coach Baldy’s—he had a receding hairline, so my teammates and I called him that in secret—practice.

Sehun approaches Cindy and me, all sweaty after long-distance running. Cindy melts under his gaze, and I watch her in amusement as she immediately straightens, completely forgetting about her sore ankle.

To her disappointment, he doesn’t notice her heart eyes at all. His eyes fall on me instead, and he grins, “Hey, pretty.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t call me that, Sehunnie.” His name rings in my mouth with slight mockery. It’s sort of his nickname in the team. He’s known as the biggest party thrower here—sure, he has the reputation of being badass. He’s definitely not. In fact, on the team, he’s literally the biggest baby to the captain.

Lindsey, our bronzed-hair toned goddess/captain, glows with leadership. She actually handles him quite well.

His eyes twinkle, and he’s like a puppy. “So, am I ever going to get that date?”

Cindy stutters, “y-you asked her out on a date?”

I grunt, “unfortunately.” And at the same time, he says, “of course.”

Cindy stares between the two of us. “I’m going to leave you two to sort that out then.” She gives me a crestfallen smile before jogging off in the direction of the rest of our team.

I roll my eyes and glance at the boy who is coming ever so closely. “I don’t get it,” he notes in a vague tone.

“What don’t you get?”

Coyly, he grins, “how can you be so fucking beautiful even after those killer suicide sprints?”

I pretend to vomit in my mouth, but a part of me doesn’t hate his flattery. “Stop it, Sehunnie. I’m not going out with you. I thought we settled this after we failed to hook up.”

“Hae!” Before Sehun can respond, I turn at the familiar voice of my friends.

“We're here to pick you up,” Jongin shouts, wide arms waving in the air.

They’re still further away, so Sehun inches closer to my ear, “come to my parties.”

“No, ask Jisoo,” I insist, swatting his face away.

He snorts. “She’s old history.”

“Ugh!” I exclaim. “Why does it have to me?”

Sehun shrugs. “Because you’re sad, and you look like you need another friend.”

My chest flutters, but it’s not from Sehun's words. Behind the bleachers, I catch a familiar figure. I see a glimpse of hair, but I can’t see him clearly with his hood on. I glance downwards, and I realize I know the hoodie.

I want to run after him, but my friends have caught up, and he’s gone.

Sehun leaves after convincing me to come to his parties. I must look a little winded, but it’s not what my friends think.

“What was that?” Kyungsoo asks, breathy.

Jongin nudges me slyly. “Do you have a suitor?”

I shake my head. “What century are you in? No one uses that word.”

Kyungsoo smacks his lips, deciding to join in on the fun. “Sehun doesn’t seem to be too bad.”

I rack my brain. “Well, you seem to differ on that opinion two months ago when you were jealous of your boyfriend bonding with the guy.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes harden, and he gives me a look of betrayal. Jongin guffaws, “you were jealous?”

“No, Jongin! I wasn’t—ugh—cut it out with the hugging. You smell like sweaty gym socks.”

Madame Boudier joins my support group that already consists of too many people. Jongin. Kyungsoo. And Sehun.

I spend lunch with her after ushering my two friends to go on their lunch date. Sehun has strangely been hovering around me, so he joins me.

We listen to her talk about her experiences. When she was in primary school, her headmaster took advantage of her. She told me that her husband, Julian, worked in the FBI. She assured me she wouldn’t say anything until I gave her the go.

Track and therapy helped me redirect my emotions, but it never made the pain of Baekhyun’s sudden disappearance go away.

Every morning, I would wake up in his bed, the space next to me empty. His pillow is tear-soaked, and when I touch my eyes, I realize I must’ve cried myself to sleep again.

I remember Baekhyun’s words when he says that he’ll be here for me—that he would never leave me. “Liar,” I murmur, my words coming out fragmented.

Then, I would curl up pathetically, closing my eyes and hoping the nightmares stay away.


	26. egress

**[haeeun]**

“Do you think your case of CSA has affected you more than you think?” Dr. Oh asks.

I laugh in surprise. “Well, we’re going there already?”

He doesn’t laugh and remains serious as he always does when we’re in session. “Do you feel ready to talk about it?”

I divert my eyes. “I think I became promiscuous—maybe.”

“Why do you think that?”

I breathe softly, contemplating, “I wasn’t afraid to express myself sexually. I mean—what could be worst than having your choice taken away from you? My boyfriend. He—uh—“ I cough, my eyes tearing up unexpectedly. “Sorry.”

Dr. Oh shakes his head and reaches to hand me a tissue. “You’re okay. Take your time.”

“A part of why I’m so attracted to him—or why I was, in the beginning, was because he gave me control. He didn’t push me into anything I didn’t want. We fight a lot, but he doesn't suppress my voice.”

“So, you sought control. Have you ever felt like you weren’t in control of a situation?” He asks me respectfully.

I clear my voice. “No—well, yes, but no. Lately, it hasn’t been so bad. My friends. They’re amazing, and being with them made me realize that I didn’t need to be on top of everything all the time. I didn’t have to fake that I was okay.”

“Where do you think it all comes from?”

I blink at him. “What? The pretending that I’m okay when I’m not?”

Dr. Oh nods his head, noting our conversation.

“I never could express myself. I was afraid to. I always felt like I had no right because I was an afterthought. A lot of my foster parents already had their own child or, if they didn’t—another priority. Drugs. Alcohol. Whatever. I didn’t want to burden anyone.”

“Do you still feel the need not to be a burden?”

My throat dries up, and I swallow, but there’s nothing to wet it. I didn’t know how to answer him because I had no idea. Kyungsoo tells me that I’ve gotten a lot better, but was there a part of me still hesitant to reach out to people?

I smile at him, standing. “Maybe next time, doc. Time’s up.”

“Oh? Sehun? Are you here to see your dad?” Amanda, the curvy brunette receptionist, asks in mild interest.

My head whips to where Sehun is standing, and I sigh once I realize it is the Sehun I know. “Yes, Amanda. Dad forgot to send me my monthly allowance, you see.”

I scoff in disbelief, not knowing if he was joking or actually serious in his monotoned reply. Then, in the corner of his eyes, he notices me, finally.

His expression lightens, and he practically bounces over here, ignoring Amanda. “Pretty, I didn’t know you were here. What are you doing here?”

He stands in front of me, and I squirm. “I was here for…” I gulp and then say, “therapy.” It sounds so foreign in my mouth. I almost want to swallow it back and pretend I never said it.

Sehun senses my mood, and he backs up. “Ah, well, I guess we’re in the same boat.”

I whirl my neck to him so fast that I almost strain it. “W-what? Why?”

I watch the boy throw me a cheeky grin. “Why not?” He sees my expression and waves a casual hand. “Oh, you know—just because Dad threatened that if I didn’t do anything else with my life other than throwing parties, he’d cut my allowance. We can’t have that because who else would be able to throw epic parties? I’m not here for his services, but I help him with some small stuff.”

I take this in silently. His reason is ridiculous, but then again, he’s weirdly charming too. I can’t decide if I dislike him or not.

We are silent for a while, but he breaks it. “Are you and Mr. Byun still?”

I tense up, but he doesn’t notice. “The last time, you said that—well, Kyungsoo said you guys weren’t fighting as much. Are you guys doing well?”

I smile bitterly to myself. “I don’t know. I hope he’s doing well. I’m doing better, not as good as I want to be, but okay.”

Sehun absorbs this, nodding slowly. “So, from what I’m hearing, you both aren’t happy.” He pauses, blinking like he can’t comprehend all of a sudden. Then, he stares at me directly in my eyes. “Why are you guys still together?” The boy throws it out there in a blunt manner. His words feel like a sharp knife.

I have to stop what I’m doing to catch my breath. “Look, Sehun. I understand that you’re curious, but what goes on in my life is none of your business.”

“Then, I’m right,” he chirps, winking at me.

I roll my eyes, exasperated. “No, you aren’t.”

“Then why did you grow defensive?”

“Shut up, Sehun.”

“You aren’t calling me Sehunnie anymore?”

“Goodbye, Sehunnie. I hope I never have to see you again,” I declare, waving my hands lazily as I walk toward the exit.

The entire classroom is silent, between being anxious for interims and distracted by our current assignments. Madame hands out our interims. Finally.

I sneak a peek, praying that I at least passed the class. She’s been letting me redo my assignments for a higher grade, and I have an A in her class now.

I jump out, letting out an excited squeak. I ignore Jisoo rolling her eyes in the corner, and Madame doesn’t tell me to sit down. All she does is smile silently, mouthing _congratulations_ _._

Kyungsoo and Jongin pat me on the back, grinning together. We did it. But my happiness died down just as quickly.

Because if I was doing okay without him, did that mean that I didn’t need him anymore? My heart races, and I drop to my seat, glancing down in my lap.

I didn’t want to forget my first love. I couldn’t, or could I?

Sehun is a lot like a puppy. He acts like a baby most of the time, but I’m starting to think he’s doing it to test me. He’s been following me around—hanging around Jongin and Kyungsoo.

They don’t mind; in fact, they love him. All three of them are like long lost friends.

When I join my friends at our lunch spot, I find him sitting across from them. I make a gargled noise in the back of my throat. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your popular friends? I mean, aren’t you, Mr. Popular?”

Sehun laughs at my comment. Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at me before turning to Sehun with a sweet smile. “Ignore her. She’s sensitive to people she isn’t close to.”

I groan, plopping down next to Sehun. “I swear, you’re everywhere. What is with that?”

He shrugs, “I like your company. Besides, Jongin and Kyungsoo are super cool.”

Jongin grins, “see, this guy knows his stuff.”

“Sehun, stop inflating his ego. It’s already as big as his head,” Kyungsoo notes, pulling out his lunch.

His boyfriend ignores that and throws an arm over the latter. “Ooh, is that Mama Do’s stir fry?” He is busily eyeing over the food, and Kyungsoo has adoration glittering in his eyes, despite his flat expression.

Sehun’s smile is gentle, and he turns to me. “It’s just something about the dynamic. It feels nice to be apart of this. I’ve never felt…free and unmasked like this.”

I scrunch my eyebrows, and he continues, “see? It’s nice being popular and all—don’t get me wrong, but it’s hard to keep up with the image. I like being kind to everyone, but it’s hard when those people are the ones constantly talking shit behind your back.”

My expression softens, and my shoulders relax. “Fine, you’re welcome to join us for lunch whenever you feel like it,” I offer, ignoring the way his face brightens. “But if you continue to annoy me, I can’t promise your survival,” I add for good measure.

He gives me a sideways smile. “That’s debatable.”

“Not really, no.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Well, I don’t care. It’s senior year. We spent almost four years sucking up to people—might as well not give a fuck anymore.”

Jongin grins goofily. “Baby, you’re the only one out of all of us who teachers actually like.” 

Sehun winks. “Ah, but you still can’t beat me, huh?”

Kyungsoo and I exchange funny looks, but inside, we’re completely okay with this. When new friendships are forged, and old ones die.

The four of us, unexpectedly, grow closer. Jongin and Kyungsoo come to every single track meet. How do I know? Well, they're always the ones screaming at the top of their lungs.

Sehun and I end up meshing well. We like the same music, the same books—it’s kind of weird. And he’s ridiculously funny—though, that’s the last thing I want to admit.

The four of us always go out to eat after Sehun and my meet. We end up talking about the weirdest topics. I’m pretty sure we were debating the morality of eating placentas. The waitress definitely looked concerned when she dropped off our food after hearing Jongin say that it’s cannibalism. Then Kyungsoo added, “not really because you're eating yourself, not others.”

I was dying with laughter at how she grimaced when Jongin went straight to eating his burger—maybe she thought that he was the type of person who would eat humans.

Sehun shared an amused look with me. We do that a lot now like we collectively agree that our friends are wack, but we don’t mind it.

“Do you still have nightmares?”

“Not in a while,” I respond, leaning back into my armchair.

Dr. Oh raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m getting a lot of support from my friends.”

“Your friends?”

I suck in a breath. “Uh, you know, Kyungsoo, Jongin, Sehun, and lately, my French teacher.”

“What about your mother?” Dr. Oh questions as if he can see through the little holes in my answers.

“Tamara’s fine,” I grunt.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re fond of her,” he notes.

“I don’t want to talk about her. I don’t like talking about people that don’t care about me,” I answer casually.

Dr. Oh continues to press me. “What makes you think she doesn’t care?”

I merely shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like she doesn’t want to raise me. I feel like a charity case.”

“Have you tried expressing this to her?”

I open my mouth and then close it. No, I haven’t. I rub my suddenly cold fingers together. I do tend to run away from intimidating things.

I get drunk despite better judgment. Sehun didn’t throw a party, but the three of us are at his place. Kyungsoo’s already had a few to drink, and his flush cheeks are cute.

He nudges me, eyes hooded from sleepiness. “You should marry Sehun and be our neighbor.”

Sehun makes a face. He can hold his drinks very well. Maybe it’s from the massive amounts of binge drinking he regularly does. “No, thanks. She’s too—meh.”

My jaw drops as I pretend to be offended. “What’s wrong with me? I’m hot. Jongin, tell me I’m hot.”

Jongin laughs, shaking his head. “You already know that.”

Kyungsoo shoves me. “Don’t you dare go after my boyfriend, slut.”

“Damn, he’s mean when he’s drunk,” I mutter, taking a sip from my solo cup.

Sehun nudges me. “I’d hook up with you, though.”

I shake my head. “I have a particular taste.”

Jongin winks at him. “She means that you’re too young for her.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up,” I grumble, threatening to choke him with my fingers.

They all laugh at me, but I’m pretty sure nothing about this is funny. They’re all becoming drunk.

I stare off into the distance, feeling the buzz of the alcohol. My eyes begin to burn, and Kyungsoo frowns at me.

“No,” he cries. “Shut her up!”

Too late. I launch into an angry rant about Baekhyun and his complete and utter irresponsibility. I call him an asshole and other colorful names. Then, I cry and cry until Sehun muffles me with his hand.

And then, the self-blame comes.

“I love him, guys. I love Baekhyun so much. If I’m doing something and it reminds me of him, my chest feels like I’ve collapsed a lung. I want him. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him. I don’t know if I ever will. I’m not even mad he left.”

Jongin drunkenly tells me that he’ll come back for me. I don’t have the heart to believe him.

I rake over him with disdain. “What if—what if he doesn’t?” My lips tremble, and I cover my face with both hands. “What if I drove him away?” I whisper, my voice breaking.


	27. instantaneous

**[haeeun]**

To my surprise, Tamara reaches out to me. I try to guess why she wants to talk to me. Maybe she finally realized my absence in her mansion. But no matter what I do, I can’t guess, so I give up.

But Dr. Oh says I should talk to her, and I told myself I wouldn’t run away anymore. So, here I am. For her, I dress up, knowing she cares about image more than she cares about me.

“You aren’t home,” she observes.

I stare at the glass of water as if the condensation will help me with this impending conversation. “Yeah,” I agree standoffishly.

She shifts in her chair. “And your reason?”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t want to tell her the truth. At least, not yet. I knew I had to tell her, but I wanted to hold it off as soon as possible. I don’t know if it’s going to help my case.

Tamara sighs. “You need to come home.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried about where you’re staying. You won’t even tell me where you’re staying,” she answers.

I’m surprised. This conversation has outlasted every single conversation we’ve had this entire year. But that’s not the biggest surprise. She’s worried about me. At this point, I can’t tell if we’re joking. But she isn’t wrong.

I don’t tell her a lot of things. It’s not that I want to keep secrets. She just never asks.

“I’m not coming home,” I finally say after a long beat of silence.

By now, our waiter has come back and taken our orders. This conversation is still going nowhere.

“I’m not advising you, I’m _telling_ you,” she stresses.

I want to laugh. “You have no right.”

“I’m legally your guardian.”

I cross my arms. “On paper.”

Tamara doesn’t look happy. She purses her lips, not knowing what to do with me. She definitely underestimated me. “Okay, that’s fair. You’re right, but I signed on your well-being and happiness when I signed those papers. Are you doing okay?”

I’m certainly not happy, but I’m more okay than I’ve been since he left. “Yeah, I’m going to therapy.”

She stares at me like she can’t recognize me. “Good. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. I think she’s not as bad as I made her out to be.

Tamara’s smile grows brighter all of a sudden. I turn my head, and all the color drains my face.

No. Every part of me is crying. My body is telling me to leave, but I can’t move.

Jun’s changed. He altered his appearance. He’s a ghost of himself. He looks older. Somehow. Jun’s always had an innocent face. That’s why no one ever suspects. They never ask any questions when minors go missing in the area.

He takes the seat next to Tamara, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

The same lips that violated me. I want to vomit.

He turns to me, acknowledging me with a comforting smile. A trick. He offers his hand. I don’t take it. I’m too busy trying to contain myself.

Tamara must sense the atmosphere between us, so she asks, “do you both know each other?”

“No,” we both answer at the same time.

Something flashes in his eyes. Satisfaction. The same look he gives me when he calls me a slut.

Her laugh is high-pitched. “Okay, we’ll order now, if that’s okay.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want anything. I have to go.” I stand, grabbing my things. Jun only has to raise his eyebrows for me to sit back down. It was automatic like I’ve been programmed. I hate everything about this. I hate him.

Tamara sighs. “Don’t be so picky, _honey_.”

Honey? I stare at her.

“Don’t honey me,” I snap. I may have let her get away with the absence, but trying to control me is crossing the line.

Jun chooses to ignore my moodiness. He introduces himself as Ennis. He’s making it abundantly clear to me who he really is. It’s clever.

Ennis Del Mar is the person who left Jake Twist. Ennis is the person who regrets. He hurts the most because he can’t accept who he really is.

Jun is nothing like Ennis.

“You’re disgusting,” I say. It’s quiet at first. It’s also unstable, but Dr. Oh tells me that the truth is better. When you begin to lie, you have to continue to lie, weave patterns, and remember why you lied in the first place. I can’t do it anymore.

Tamara looks at me like she can’t process what I just said.

Jun smiles politely. He’s smug as a motherfucker under that pretense. “In what way?”

“In the way that you’ve abused me. Trapped me. Emotionally manipulated me. Used my mom. Stole her last breath. But that’s not even the worst thing you’ve done. You’re still alive, Jun. I’m surprised none of your victims have tried to make you pay for what you’ve done.”

He’s mildly shocked. He must still think I’m that little girl trapped in the basement. I’m not her. Dr. Oh tells me that I’m a better person because of my strength. The strength to try and get past my barriers.

“You can’t have any power over me anymore. I won’t let you,” I tell him firmly. Then, I stand, ignoring the way his jaw clenches.

If I’d been the same person, I might’ve let him hit me like I knew he would when I spoke up.

Tamara stares at me. Her mouth opens in shock.

I turn to her, anchoring my attention only on her. “If you cared about me at all, you’ll leave him. He’s not who you think he is. Don’t listen to his sweet nothings. His name is Jun, and he raped me when I was seventeen.”

Then, I leave, not even sparing another glance at him.

I bump into Jisoo as I leave the library. We stare at each other. She doesn’t snap at me like she usually does, and I have no need for a witty comeback.

Someone pushes past the both of us without any word, and we both yell, “watch it!”

Then, I glance at her tentatively when I see a small smile.

“You okay?” Jisoo asks.

I frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She snorts lightly. “Figures. You’re stronger than me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “I know about you and Mr. Byun,” she replies easily, but her eyes widen. “But it wasn’t me. I didn’t rat you out.”

I still don’t answer because I don’t trust her. Why would I? She’d been after my neck from the start.

“I saw you both at his place,” she adds quickly, but she retreats. “Trust me. I wouldn’t wish that on you. Ever. I was involved with the last teacher. Mr. Byun was his replacement. Someone told on us, and he packed his bags and never came back.”

My mouth falls. “What? I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m just emotionally broken and permanently a bitch.”

I never hated Jisoo. I did dislike her because she was after me. Then again, I’m just a tad bit more defensive than other people. “It helps if you don’t blame yourself. I have a really good therapist. I can give you his card,” I advise, offering her a smile.

Jisoo squints her eyes. “You sound like you know what I went through…” Then, she realizes. “He’s gone?”

My smile falls slowly as I nod.

“I—are you okay?”

“Sure,” I answer curtly.

Jisoo squeezes my shoulder. “I got a feeling that he loves you. He’s different from—“ She clears her throat, shaking her head as if mentally telling herself to forget. “Never mind that. But he’s coming back. I know it.”

I don’t let my sadness show on my face, but I nod, thanking her. Then, we part ways, and Baekhyun is on my mind once again.

I’m starting to think moving on without him is a pipe dream.

I find out that Milan quit, so I rush to her office immediately. She’s there, packing most of her things in a box.

“Mi,” I call out. “Why are you leaving?”

She doesn’t look at me. “Because I’m tired, Hae. I’m exhausted, and I want to go away. Far away.”

My eyes well up, and I approach her. “Can I help you with anything?”

She sighs. “No.”

“But—“

Milan stops packing, and her eyes find me. “Go to class, Hae. I don’t need anything.”

“It’s fine. Madame will understand if I explain—“

“Fuck,” she whispers, closing her eyes momentarily. After an exhale, she asks, “what about ‘go away’ do you not understand? Just fucking leave. You didn’t stay when I needed you. You end up abandoning me anyway. So, why bother?”

My mouth dries. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where any of this is coming from. “What are you talking about?”

Milan scoffs. “Of course, you don’t remember me. It’s always about you. Haeeun, this. Haeeun, that.”

I begin to grow defensive. “Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

She doesn’t answer, so I call her name again.

“Haeeun, I’m _her_. I tried to help you. Two years ago.”

I blink until it dawns on me. The raven beauty. “How—you don’t look—“ And then I realize that I don’t know what her face looks like, not after blocking out those memories. She never appears in my nightmares and I—what if she’s right?

What if I’m really just a selfish person?

“Oh, Milan. I’m sorry—I didn’t know. It was really—“

She doesn’t offer me any mercy. “Long ago? Too hard for you? I never asked for anything in return, but I’d hope that you’d finish killing me that night. Then, my life wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

My words fall away, and I feel terrible. My stomach is in knots. For the first time, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a comeback. She wasn’t coming for me. She was telling the truth. I’d wanted to live. It kills me that this wasn’t what haunted me the most.

Doesn’t that make me as worthy as Jun?

When she leaves, I’m torn. I don’t know whether to hate myself or fear her because she was here shortly before I was. As if everything was planned.

I spent the entire time crying during therapy. Dr. Oh didn’t ask, but I had a feeling he was going to ask me next time.

Miyoung called me to her place. She wanted to talk to me about something. I had a feeling it wasn’t good.

She greets me with a long hug. I definitely knew something was up. She sits across from me, asking if I wanted a drink.

I didn’t want a drink. I’m scared of what’s coming.

“Baekhyun’s caught in some legality issues with his heritage,” Miyoung explains.

I grit my teeth at the mention of him. “What do you mean?”

“His father’s health is failing, and he wants Baekhyun to take over. His father owns a pharmaceutical company. But on the condition that he takes over, he has to leave you.”

I stare at her. “He wouldn’t—“

“He’d never choose to leave you, Hae. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Miyoung sighs. “His father gave him an ultimatum. He’ll be losing every last cent of the money passed to him. Baek’s never cared about money, but if he’s disowned, he won’t be able to step a foot on his family’s property. He’ll never see his mother and sister again since they’re buried on their estate.”

My lips tremble. “He loves them. God—how could his father make him choose?”

She shakes her head. “I know, honey. He’s coming back, but it’s taking him a while with the process.”

“He’s disowning his family?” I ask in disbelief. “What? No. Why? I’m not worth it. He _can’t_.”

Miyoung smiles sadly. “Because you’re important to him, but so are his mother and sister. He’s trying to fight that one.”

I shake my head. “I don’t deserve it. I’m letting her murderer getting away. Every minute that I’m breathing, I’m letting him go. Two years is a long time, Miyoung. I—I’m terrible, and Baekhyun doesn’t know. He’ll be livid that I kept it from him.” I bury my face in my hands, but as if that could hide me from my problems.

“You’re victim to it as much as his sister.”

“But—“

Miyoung shakes her head firmly, stopping me from arguing. “Junmyeon will help you with your case. I told him, and he’s willing to see a huge lawsuit through. He told me he’s working with detectives. I assume you reached out to them first?”

I nod.

She claps me on the back. “Good, then. I don’t want to hear another word about ‘it’s my fault’ or ‘I could’ve done something’ because you’re doing something now, and that’s a start.”


	28. sagacious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a small explanation in case anyone is lost,,
> 
> first of all, milan is the raven beauty. the girl haeeun met in jun's basement. we don't know why milan was conveniently working near haeeun. that's why it's a mystery. are we mad at her or not? i guess we'll find out. 
> 
> baek is still gone. remember. he doesn't remember anything about his accident. he's only been told of what happened. he doesn't know that he was the one who didn't kill his sister in the car. all he remembers is that she died and he's responsible. that's why chanyeol was so angry with haeeun. his little brother was involved because joori and taeyong were dating. by her running away, she never let police officials know about jun and his actions. so joori and taeyong's murder are unsolved.

**[haeeun]**

It’s rare nowadays, but my nightmares are here tonight. Dr. Oh taught me some coping techniques. I could usually wake myself up, but it’s different tonight. I can’t wake up, and all I can smell is Jun and his cologne. The strong citrusy scent that lingers everywhere after he visits me.

I startle awake, sitting up abruptly and struggling to breathe. Someone pulls me close to them. At first, I think it’s either one of my friends. I’ve been switching between their places to avoid going home. But then I realize that I’m not staying at their place.

I chose to go to Baekhyun’s tonight because Kyungsoo and Jongin had a date, and Sehun went out of town with his dad. I’m alone.

Or I should be. I close my eyes, inhaling the air around me. My body tingles in familiarity. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Hot chocolate.

I abruptly pull away, staring at _him_ —my boyfriend. I blink several times, unable to say anything. I’m confused. Why is he here?

I mean, of course, he’s here. It’s his place, but he’s _here in_ front of me. I start to cry. My fingers tremble as I touch him. I touch him everywhere.

His face, his chest, his neck. He’s warm. He smells like comfort. And most importantly, he’s not apart of my imagination. Not this time.

Baekhyun’s eyes are black. It sucks you in like you’re staring into a void of mystery. You can’t really read him, but when he cares about you, he’s exactly like an open book. The shade of his eyes seemingly lighten a tad bit, and he looks at you with such a tenderness that makes your heart want to burst out of your chest.

I’m staring right into his eyes, trying to read him. What’s he thinking? He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. Our gazes continuously lock on each other as if we’re trying to memorize each other—trying to steal back the time that he’d been away.

I rest one of my hand behind his nape, and the other one clenches on the fabric of his shirt. Then, I tilt my head, stealing his next breath.

He inhales shakily and kisses me like he’s starving. Both of his hands squeeze my thighs, and I push myself up on my knees because I need him deeper. I need more of him. I let him between my lips, taking back what’s mine. He feels good, and his hands remember how to touch me because he’s everywhere now.

He continues to pull me closer even though there’s nowhere to go. And when I bite down on his bottom lip, he groans. His sounds feel feral. I realize that I missed him, and even that word is an understatement. It’s a fraction of what I feel. He’s the _only_ one. I _can’t_ move on.

Baekhyun falls back on the bed, allowing me to straddle him. I’m desperate. I want to feel him. Every inch of him. I crave his warmth.

I struggle to pull his shirt off, and he stops me with his hand. “Calm down, baby,” he whispers. Then, he lifts his back, pulling it off for me. “I’m here,” he adds quietly, caressing the side of my face.

I lean into his touch, but I shake my head. “I can’t,” I admit. He looks concerned, so I continue, “help me remember so I never forget, Byun Baekhyun.”

When I wake, it’s morning. It’s a school day, so I know I can’t stay. I had no intention to stay. Last night was our _last_ night. I fought my instincts to look at him. If my eyes lingered on him for even a second, I knew I could never leave.

So, I left him a note.

_baekhyun,_

_even if your love shines brighter than the sun, sometimes love isn’t enough. i’ll remember everything, bae. i promise i will. but i’m sorry._

_i can’t excuse your behavior. i’m ending this._

I attempt to piece it all together when I drive to school _._ I take deep breaths. I use coping tactics, but when I see my friends at the locker bay. I fall apart immediately.

Kyungsoo’s smile falls when he sees my trembling lips and pale skin. I collapse into his arms. “I ended it, Kyung. It’s over.”

When I say it aloud, it feels real. My reality feels like it’s breaking apart, and I honestly don’t know how much more I can take it.

Sehun and Jongin are worried, and they stay with us past the first warning bell.

I hate myself. I hate that I’m a liar. I wasn’t angry at him for leaving. That wasn’t the reason I left him. I couldn’t let him be consumed by me. He shouldn’t have to forsake anything for me. Not his mom, and definitely not Joori.

I want to convince myself that I did the right thing, but why did everything hurt like a bitch?

I finally learned what real love was, and it’s not beautiful. Real love doesn’t mean a happy ending.

I spent the day with them as they tried to cheer me up. Sehun gave me time to vent, but it was mostly self-blame.

I ignore the text messages and calls that are blowing up my phone. I’m aware that it’s Baekhyun, and he probably wants an explanation rather than a flimsy note.

I’m the biggest asshole ever, but at least it wasn’t over text.

When I get home, the one that never feels like home, Tamara is there. I’ve never seen her so ashen—definitely not pacing back and forth like her life depended on it.

“Haeeun,” she calls out in relief, hurriedly walking over to me. Then, she surprises me with a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

I’m too shocked to say anything for a minute.

“Sorry, you must not like—“ She begins, pulling away.

I shake my head. “No, that’s not—it feels nice.”

Tamara remains there for a long time. She pats my back. When we go to sit down, she immediately says, “I ended it.”

I stare at her, unable to express anything. “You did?”

She nods earnestly. “I believe you, Haeeun. I’m taking your side. He’s not worth anything—definitely not over your safety. I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I just didn’t think it would’ve done anything.”

Tamara looks pained at my admittance. “No, please don’t apologize. I know I haven’t been there for you. I—“ She stops, reluctant to continue. But after braving herself, she continues, “I was also adopted like you. My parents—they were great people, but they adopted me to look good. I know what it’s like to have abandonment issues, darling. I watched my paternal parents die from drug overdose right in front of me when I was five. I adopted you because you’re resilient. You look so strong from the outside, and you’re so full of life, Haeeun. You just reminded me so much of myself, but I don’t know how to parent. I didn’t have much guidance growing up. But now? I want to try harder. If—“ She takes a deep breath. “If you’ll let me, of course.”

I drop my eyes to my hands, clenched on the fabric of my sweater. Nodding, I feel the tears fall. I haven’t felt this type of warmth in a long time. I almost forgot how good it felt.

Junmyeon is a nice man. He carries an air of sophistication with him when he speaks. He makes me feel safe. He treats everything I tell him with utmost care. He buys tissues in his pristine office just for me.

He believes everything I say.

During lunch, I also meet Julian, Madame Boudier’s husband, who believes everything I say. He asks me many questions, but Madame always knows how to pace our sessions. I’m thankful for all the help I get every day.

It’s almost unreal that everyone around me is so supportive. I want to believe that I deserve this, but there’s always that tiny doubt in the crux of my heart that tells me I should bask in this security as long as I can.

I told Tamara about Baekhyun. She reacted more calmly than I thought she would. It was weird, having another female guardian that cared about me.

She didn’t scold me about my inappropriate relationship with an older man, but she did ask if he ever did anything that made me uncomfortable.

I immediately vouched for him. Baekhyun was different. He wasn’t Jun. He had his own set of problems, and we had difficulties sorting our differences, but he gave me a choice. He taught me love, and he’ll always be an important aspect of my life.

I finally checked my text messages from him. I scanned through them. Most of them were apologies, and most of them urged me to talk to him. I respect that he gave me space. He didn’t try to approach me, and it only strengthened how I felt about him.

His last text message almost broke me. He told me that he’ll always love me, and he was glad that he took me home from the bar.

_i can’t imagine anyone else, eun. just know. it’ll always be you._


	29. abhorrence

**[haeeun]**

When you’re on the line facing life and death, you don’t think about much. Adrenaline dulls away your pain, and your brain tries its best to process incoherent thoughts. And sometimes, the fear is so intense that you can physically feel your nerves want to melt away.

I’ve stood on it many times. When I was so hungry, each crawl made me want to blackout. Or when I was lying in the snow, hoping the cold would just stop.

Since my sessions with Dr. Oh, I’ve begun to feel more human. I’ve admitted to him that I’m an impulsive liar. We’ve come up with a plan to help me become more honest. It was hard to become aware that my lying was damaging my relationships with everyone, but it was also time for me to stop being scared of the inevitable.

I’d just finished therapy, and instead of getting into my car, as usual, I stand outside the building, texting my friends. I should’ve realized that there was something wrong. When I’m no longer distracted by my phone, it’s too late.

The familiar scent of chloroform catches me in surprise. I struggle, craning my head to see my attacker. He overtakes me, and eventually, I succumb to darkness.

When I’m up, my head is doozy as if I’m not quite in control of my own body. I blink groggily. It’s dark outside, and I startle awake. My things aren’t with me. I try to move, but I’m immediately met with resistance.

My eyes fall to my hands that are restrained by zip ties to the grab handle of—of a car. I’m in a moving car.

“Who are you?” I force myself to ask.

The deep laugh sends chills up my spine. “You finally up, P?”

My heart drops to my stomach, and I freeze up at the sound of his voice. “Where the fuck are you taking me?”

Jun tsks in the driver’s seat. “Someone should really sew up that foul mouth of yours.”

“Cut the crap,” I quip. “Give me answers.”

He hisses. “I should’ve gagged you, for fucks sakes. Canada, darling. Aren’t you excited?”

My mouth falls open. “Cana—what? Let me go!”

“There’s no benefit to letting you go, P.”

I frown, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. “Why are you kidnapping me? You can’t get away with this. People will be looking for me.”

Jun sighs, but he doesn’t sound regretful. It’s more of a grievance that he couldn’t have his way. He’s psychotic. I’m sure of it. “Don’t I know it?”

“Why are you taking me? Why don’t you fucking leave by yourself?” I snap, adrenaline fueling my anger.

He jerks on the brakes, and I almost fly forward if it weren’t for the seatbelt. “I couldn’t leave without taking what’s mine.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

Jun meets my eyes through the rearview mirror. “Are you sure about that? Because I’m sure, you’d beg to differ when it comes to that boy toy of yours.”

At the mention of Baekhyun, my temper flares. “That’s none of your business, you asshole.”

He sighs again. “Oh, but it is. It’s always been you and me, P. Just the two of us against the world. You know that I’d give you everything.”

“Why?” I ask shakily.

“Because the thought of you riles me up—“ He takes a deep breath. It’s disgusting. The way he objectifies me. I squirm uncomfortably. “You were always so mature—so different from other women. You’re fucking beautiful, Haeeun. And most importantly, you’re _mine_.”

I grit my teeth. “I am not yours, and I will never be yours. You’re fucking vile.”

“Say whatever you want because I’m cutting off that tongue of yours when we get there,” he announces cheerily.

“Stop the car. You can’t take me over the border. I don’t have identification.” For a minute, the thought that we can’t leave thrills me. It gives me hope. I _can_ escape.

But Jun’s always been good at crushing any hope. “Tough luck, sweetheart. I already have your passport. When we cross the border, we’ll be two different people.”

I gawk at him. “You fucking forged passports? Are you crazy?”

“Love does crazy things to people.” Fucking hell, does he always have something to say?

I refuse to give up. There has to be some way. I can get out of this. I’ve always been able to—right?

The small voice in the back of my head tells me that it’s over. I don’t know how long I can fight it.

“Why are you doing this? Why go to these extremes?” I ask, almost like I’m pleading him to rethink. I need him to change his mind. I need him to let me go.

Jun pulls the car over, and he unbuckles his seat. I shrink back in fear. His eyes are black, and the way he looks at me makes every cell in my body scream. “What do you want me to do?”

I don’t answer his question because it’s eerie. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

“Do you want me to go back there and slit your neck? Drain all your blood—make you into a _puppet_. Or do you want to ride in silence?”

I’m shaking because I don’t doubt a single word he says. He’s completely lost his fucking mind. I don’t doubt that he’ll kill me to get what he wants. Obedience.

Still, I say, “why don’t you come back here, and we’ll see?” I force the seduction out of my voice. I imagine that I’m talking to Baekhyun. God, I miss him. My heart squeezes in my chest.

Jun perks up, sounding interested. “What do you have in mind?”

I swallow back the vomit threatening to spill. “I don’t know.” I try to be coy—to sound shy because that’s what he likes. He likes to imagine that I’m his little angel.

He climbs back, crouching over me. I try not to whimper because I’m at my limit of hiding back my disgust.

In the first minute that he puts his lips on me, my body is on fire like I’m being submerged in acid. I exhale shakily, holding in a sob. “Cut me loose, baby,” I whisper, trying to be strong.

Jun tilts his head, smirking. “Baby? I like that.” He growls, palming my sex. My face is wet—possibly from tears, but I don’t make it audible.

He touches the length of my arm, getting closer to the zip tie.

I need him to be faster, so I say, “what do you want me to do for you?”

Jun is eager now. He pulls out a pocket knife, easily cutting the plastic. I can feel the adrenaline kicking in again. Raising my legs, I kick the hardest I’ve ever kicked in my life. He screams in blinding pain, falling on top of me. I kick him again, using the last of my strength to push him away.

“You bitch!”

He’s a couple of inches away from me, unable to move. I take advantage of his immobility by escaping through the other door.

I stumble out of the car, only to fall, slipping on ice. Yelping, I’m on the side of the road, and my left ankle is in burning pain. I try to get up only to fall down again. It’s no good. I think I fractured it.

I attempt to crawl out to the middle of the road, but Jun is up again. He’s cursing my name in several colorful words.

I ignore him, pushing through the pain because I need to escape. I have to go. A car comes down the road in the opposite way. I had to get their attention.

I scream for help, but they pass by, completely ignoring me. I falter, hope draining from me as Jun catches my leg. I can’t see much through my tears. All I know is that he’s dragging back to his car. The fabric of my clothes tear from the friction, and my skin burns from my exposed back, tearing from ice.

I’m shivering from cold and pain, but it’s endless. It doesn’t stop. I close my eyes, forcing myself to imagine paradise. It’s a coping tactic.

Dr. Oh said if I ever was in a situation that I couldn’t control, I needed to imagine another scenario.

So, I think of my friends. I think of Tamara. And I think of—I think of Baekhyun. It’s years from now. I’m in college, and he proposes. I say, yes. Kyungsoo and Jongin are at my wedding. They fight over who gets to give us the rings. Baekhyun is playing with my baby. Our baby. He tells me he loves me every night, and I’m safe. I’m warm in his arms.

When I open my eyes, the pain is far away. I can feel it, but it doesn’t bother me. Jun’s smile is haunting. It’s like he won. It wants to convince me that he won. I stop struggling.

He lifts me in his arms like I’m a rag doll. He kisses my neck, murmuring that I shouldn’t have acted up. Then, he wouldn’t have had to hurt me.

Liar.

Jun enjoys seeing me in pain.

He tosses me on the backseat of the car, and I hit my head against the door. My vision goes spotty, and I’m not able to process real-time.

I’m cold. My shirt is gone. His hands are rough.

I stare at the ceiling. Everything is spinning, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.

I smile, knowing that I’ll be so out of it that this time won’t be so bad. The thought of him violating me again should be horrifying, but it’s not. What choice did I have?

He gets close, but before he’s inside. The world shakes. The car lunges forward, and he falls against the seat violently. Jun is still like he’s knocked out.

Everything is still disorienting, but I force myself to sit up. I have to go.

Someone helps me, and I’m in another vehicle. This person helps me get dressed quickly. “Who?” I groan, clutching my head.

“It’s Milan,” she murmurs, pulling over my seatbelt.

Everything goes black.

My cheeks sting. I force open my eyes.

“Come on, Hae. You can’t sleep. You’ll go into hypothermia,” she pleads.

“It hurts,” I moan. “Stop hitting me.”

Milan sighs in relief. “Thank god. You can’t die on me. I have to make it right.”

My head hurts like a bitch, but I can think again. She starts to pull off the side of the road. “You ratted us out,” I note quietly. “You were working with Jun.”

She holds her breath.

“Why?” I ask, the hole in my heart growing. “Why would you ever—“

Milan cuts me off. “I don’t know, Haeeun! Maybe because I was angry. I wanted revenge. I lost everything. I lost my husband—I _lost_ my baby. It made my blood boil that you still had everything.”

“Then why are you helping me?” I yell.

She’s crying. Her sobs fill the car. “Because you were my friend, Hae. When I wanted to end it all during those times in the basement, _you_ kept me sane. You don’t know how sorry I am. It was wrong of me to blame you. You wanted to live. We all wanted to live.”

I wipe away my tears with my sleeves. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

She sniffs. “Me too. We can’t let him win. We have to live.”

I open my mouth, but a violent sound jerks us both forward. The car goes skidding, and it crashes into the side of the bridge we’re on. The car tilts, and we fall straight into the icy water.

“No,” I choke, coughing on water. I claw the seatbelt away from me. Milan is unconscious, so I use my strength to pull us both up. The water is blindingly cold.

I give her resuscitation, and thankfully, she comes back. “Hey,” I whisper.

She smiles. “Hey.” Her eyes begin to close again, and I slap her awake.

“You can’t sleep,” I tell her desperately. “You’ll never wake up again. I can’t lose you—not after everything.”

Milan shakes her head. “You’re going to have a good life, Hae. You’ll go to college. You’ll get married. You’ll have cute babies. You have to,” she says.

My chest hurts from sobbing. “And you’ll be there—I forgive you, Mi. You’re my friend. You’ll see me there every step of the way.”

She shakes her head. “I’m tired, Hae. I just want it to stop. I want to see my husband. I want to see my baby.”

I blink away tears. “No, no, no—what are you saying? They want you to live! You said that we had to live!”

Milan smiles sadly, tugging my hand. She kisses it softly. “I guess you’re not the only good liar.”

“Mi—no, you’re not going to die. Please—please stay with me. I c-can’t do this,” I beg, shaking her roughly.

Her head rolls to the side, and I see fluid leaking from her ears. My breath catches in my throat.

It’s brain matter.

I stop moving her. She looks relieved. “Take my sweater,” she rasps.

I shake my head. “You’ll freeze. It’s snowing.”

Milan grabs my arm, her eyes meeting mine with intent. “It’s too late for me, but it’s not for you. Find _help_. You did it once; you can do it again.”

I wheeze on restricted air. I’m having a panic attack. “I won’t make the same mistakes. I can’t leave you here. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it—“

She swallows, her eyes drooping. “You won’t leave me here. You’ll find me again, Haeeun. I’ll see you one day. Promise.” Then, she laughs. “Just not in the way you’d hope for.”

Then, she takes a long breath, but it’s also her last.

I stop moving, staring at her smile. Her eyes are crinkled. She’s _smiling_. My body wretches as I cry again.

I know she’s right. I have to go. I have to live. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pull off her sweater and tug it on my body. I crawl further up the shore. My left ankle is numb. I try not to put too much pressure on it, and I can see the road up ahead.

It takes all of my effort to walk there, but I make it. There’s a car waiting on top. I stop moving. Jun looks near, murderous when he finds me in the dark.

He approaches me quickly, and I choke on a scream. I try to move, but I can’t. I’m at my limit.

“You _murdered_ her,” I scream. “Why? Why do you bring innocent people into this? Why did you kill them?”

Jun laughs loud and clear. “So as long as I get what I want. Isn’t that the same for you? You’re resilient, P. I’ll give you that.”

“Fuck you!” I fall, unable to stand anymore.

He’s smiling again like he won. “If I can’t have you while you’re alive, I’ll have you dead. I don’t care. Whatever it takes. Oh—“ He stops. “We can do it together.”

I pause. “Do what?”

“We can die, sweetheart. That way, if I can’t have you—no one can!” He’s hysterical. Jun has absolutely lost his mind.

He shuffles to his car, and he pulls out something—a gun. I hiccup.

“Do you want to pull the trigger, or do you want me to?” He questions, falling on top of me. I cry out weakly. He’s crushing me.

The tip of the gun is pressed against my forehead. I shake my head fervently. I’m begging him. I’m pleading him with everything I got.

He’s not listening. I hear the cock of the gun. I go still. It’s too late. I’m too late.

“Did you kill Joori?” I ask before he pulls the trigger.

Jun stops. “Who?”

“We got into a fight. She went after me, but I never saw her again.”

He hums, “ah. Yes, she was a handful. She had a nice tight cunt, but not as nice as yours.”

My stomach drops. “No,” I whisper over and over again.

Jun bellows, “yes, but don’t worry. It was fun getting rid of her. I was surprised they could identify her. I thought I mutilated her until she was unrecognizable.”

I don’t stop whispering the words _no._ I couldn’t. It was the only thing I could focus on. I was going to lose my fucking mind.

He tells me to shut up, but I don’t listen. He raises his right hand to slap me, but he’s not able to when the sound of a car approaches us.

The brights are on, and it blinds us. It gives me enough time to struggle, and I’m out from under him.

I jump in front of the car because it’s my last hope. The car doesn’t hit me. It stops, and I collapse.

The driver stumbles out of his car and helps me up. “Are you okay?”

I’m not able to answer. The numbness takes over, and I succumb to it.


	30. convalescence

**[haeeun]**

“I’m not dead,” I croak, my voice scratchy as if it hadn’t been used for a while. My eyes flutter open to see Tamara hovering over me, shell-shocked.

Smiling tearfully, she comments, “no, you're not. Thank god.” She calmly presses the emergency buttons to alert the nurses.

I give myself a once over only to wince.

She notices and says, “I know it looks bad, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time. When I was fifteen, I got hit by a speeding car in my neighborhood. It was…quite the experience.”

I chuckle until I realize it’s kind of dark. “Sorry I shouldn’t laugh.”

Tamara sighs, “I’m revoking your apology privileges. You deserve the world, sweetie.”

I make a face. “You act like I’m dead.”

“But, you’re not, and it’s a miracle. If I’d been home more often, this wouldn’t have happened. I—“

I fix her a look. I never like it when people blame themselves over things they can’t control. The irony of it is frankly hilarious. I shush her first, to which she closes her mouth, blinking at me confusedly. “I’m revoking your self-blame privileges.”

At that, we share a laugh. This feels nice. “On a serious note, do you want to go back to school? I could set up homeschooling for you if you’d like. I feel as with everything going on—“

I shake my head abruptly. “That last thing I want is to be sheltered, Tamara. I’m okay. I’m a big girl, and I can handle a little injury.”

Tamara looks at me like she wants to believe me, but how could she? I don’t really believe in myself either.

Currently, as is, I feel empty. There are holes in my heart. Gigantic, gaping holes. Me claiming that I’m okay is like putting bandages over those holes.

But I’m different now. I’m hopeful.

“How long have I been sleeping?” I ask.

She fixes her eyes on me—on my entire body. Shaking her head, she answers regretfully, “honey, you’ve been in a coma. They had to induce you because your brain was swelling up. The doctors told me that you hit your head several times.”

“How long?” I repeat, my throat clogging.

“A week. I only found you yesterday.”

I swallow, but it doesn’t help. There’s a metallic taste on my tongue. I can’t tell if I’m okay. I’m not able to process any of this. It feels so far away now, like that night was a fever dream. Nothing feels real. “Has Julian or Junmyeon contacted you?”

Tamara frowns. “Sweetie, you don’t have to testify. What you just went through was traumatic. This has been the worst week of my life. I don’t need to know how you feel to know. Please don’t force yourself.”

I offer a weak smile. “Dr. Oh says the first step in moving on is being truthful. I’m _scared_.” My voice breaks. “But I can’t let him get away the second time. He’s a monster. I owe it to his other victims.” Remembering Milan’s words, I whisper, “I have to make it _right_.”

She squeezes my shoulder, and her voice is strained when she says, “okay, you do whatever feels right. I just want to let you know that I’m glad I adopted you.”

A shy smile graces my face. “I’m glad too, _mom_.”

A doctor and nurse come to check on me. They do several cognitive tests, and they don’t hide their surprise when they tell me that I’ll be back on my feet soon.

Except for crutches, but that’s a problem for another day.

Kyungsoo cries like a baby. I’d expected this. Sehun ruffles my hair and tells me that I’m the strongest person he’s ever met when I tell him about everything. Then, there’s Jongin. I’ve realized that he’s probably the most similar to me.

He pretends that he’s okay when he’s not. I ask Kyungsoo and Sehun to look for some snacks and force Jongin to stay.

When I hold him, he breaks down. “I felt so bad. We didn’t find out until the third day. God—you were probably so scared, weren’t you?”

I nod, the hole in my heart growing bigger. Nonetheless, I pat his back comfortingly. “I’m okay, Jongin. Thank you for worrying about me.”

He sniffs. “I can’t lose you. You’re supposed to be at my wedding.”

I tsk. “Of course, and godmother to all your children.”

He laughs. “Deal. Just promise me you won’t die.” He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

“Yes, dad. Pinky swear.”

I can visualize him rolling his eyes. “It’s just—you’re important. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have built the confidence to go for Kyungsoo. He’s the best thing in my life, and it’s all thanks to you.”

The hole in my heart closes a tiny bit. I grin, kissing his shoulder. “Fax, no printer.”

I hear that Tamara wants to transfer me closer to home, but since I was getting better, it felt like a shame to transfer hospitals for another night. I choose to stay.

One night, Kyungsoo announces, “you know, I actually don’t think you’re as okay as you make yourself out to be.”

I snort. “Yeah, well. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking it,” I drone.

He shoves my face playfully. I yelp and complain that I’m a patient. Kyungsoo is a savage, so he doesn’t care.

I train my eyes on the small television hanging from the ceiling, showing a 50’s show. “You’re right, Kyung. I’m not okay.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t look smug. He doesn’t tell me _I told you so._ He simply pulls me into his side until we’re cuddling on the hospital bed. I lay on his chest, snuggling him. “I’ve been feeling particularly empty, but I’m not afraid of what happened. I just want it to be over. I don’t want to freak out, Kyung.”

He doesn’t say anything, signaling me to continue.

“Do you remember the moment before you almost died?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “I—yes. Of course, I do. I relived it for a long time.”

“When I fell into that lake, I—I almost gave up.”

“What was your anchor?” He sounds heartbroken.

I swallow, eyes glazing over—but the tears don’t come. They haven’t come since I’ve woken up. “Baekhyun.”

“You _called_ him?” I stress, wanting to jump out of bed and strangle Sehun.

Kyungsoo shoots Sehun a dirty look. “Remind me why you’re our friend?”

Jongin pats Kyungsoo to calm him down. “Babe, imagine if you were in her position. How would you think that I would feel?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “But we didn’t snitch. Chicks before dicks. We don’t spill until Hae wants us to.”

Sehun snorts. “Kyung, have some sympathy. Besides, if I’m their cupid—this means I get the maid of honor.”

I laugh, imagining Sehun in a dress. “Bet.”

He smirks. “Oh, challenge accepted, Pretty. It’s the best I could do for you.”

Kyungsoo gasps. “You're both fakes.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, I still don’t want him here. Sehun, you made this mess. You get to dig yourself out of it.”

Sehun narrows his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Also, I can do anything but murder.”

“Hah-hah, very funny,” I say blandly.

“I did not think about nuance,” he mutters to himself.

In the meantime, Kyungsoo is warming up to the thought of chasing Baekhyun away. Jongin wants an explanation because he thinks I’m clearly not okay in the head. Sehun is his usual airhead self. The boy lives like the world is his platter.

“I don’t want him here. I’m not a charity case. Like yes, I went through life and death, but so what? I don’t want him to be one of those guys who stays with someone because of _pity_. Then, I’d be living an unhappy, sexless marriage for the rest of my life—“

“Do you really believe that?”

My first instinct is to remark very snidely at Kyungsoo, who is most likely to doubt me. My heart begs to differ. I know the difference.

Everyone turns to the door to see Baekhyun leaning against it. His hair is long and unruly, with his hair falling into his eyes. His roots are dark, fully showing. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days. He looks like a mess. He really does.

But he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I divert my eyes from him, wetting my lips.

“We’ll be in the cafeteria,” Sehun declares in the midst of awkward silence as he drags everyone out with him.

“I smell,” I tell him.

Baekhyun approaches, standing over me. “You’re fine.”

“There’s crusted blood.”

“I don’t care.”

“But—“

He cuts me off. “You’re perfect.”

My breath hitches as I glance sideways back at him. I don’t know what to say, so I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Help me shower.”

Baekhyun doesn’t laugh at me. He doesn’t call me an idiot. He simply undoes the hook on my cast, and then in one fell swoop, he lifts me.

I squeeze my arms around his neck. “You’re here,” I whisper as if it’s surreal.

He squeezes me back. “I’m here.”

Baekhyun sets me on the bench shower gently. He undoes all my clothes—all my bandages. He looks sad, as if my injuries have anything to do with him.

The water is lukewarm when it runs off my skin, but I still shiver. My back is turned to him, and his hands are gentle when he washes off the blood and grime.

I bring my knees up to my chest. Baekhyun doesn’t say much, and I’m starting to become worried that I’ve permanently broken him.

He drops his head, resting it below the nape of my neck. “Don’t turn around,” he murmurs.

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. “Okay, I won’t.”

I can feel him trembling against me. Baekhyun has never cried in front of me. No matter what. No matter how dire the situation seemed.

Now, he just seems human. He seems so close.

I bite my lip, trying to hold back a sob. “I was really scared. But—not of dying. I was terrified I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you and that I’m sorry I lied. I don’t want you ever to regret me. Not after I finally learned how to love the right way. You were my anchor, Baekhyun. I only held on because of you. Because I needed to find a way to tell you—“ I exhale shakily, bracing myself. “I never stopped loving you.”

At this, he turns me around. I look into his eyes, and I only see a resolute man—a man who’s made up his mind.

“Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you,” he attests. Then, Baekhyun kisses me, showing me that there’s more than one way to say, ‘I love you.’

I shake Julian’s hands. He smiles fondly, eyes inspecting my surrounding. Baekhyun is curled on his side with his face buried in my neck as I sit upright with the bed raised. Our legs remain tangled under the blanket. He’d been up with me the entire night when I finally broke down, so he’s sleeping like the dead at the moment.

My friends had to return to school, and Tamara had to get back to work. Baekhyun, well, he hasn’t left my side ever since.

“Did you want to talk somewhere else?” Julian asks politely.

I shake my head. “It’s okay.” I bite back a laugh when my man murmurs indistinguishable words in his sleep. “We’ll just be a little quiet—if that’s okay.”

Julian nods, sitting himself down in front of me. “How have you been doing?”

I answer, honestly. “I’m coping.”

After small talk, he gets right into business. I’m asked to recount everything. It’s painful, but I tell him what happened that night.

He thanks me and asks me if I know about any other victims.

“If you go to his old bakery, there’s a pink table. Under the table, when you dig up the wood flooring—there should be an indent—um, I hid receipts under.”

Julian frowns. “When was this?”

“Just a little after Sandra’s death. I needed leverage.”

“Leverage against?”

“He wanted to sell me,” I answer, staring down at my hand.

Julian remains quiet for a beat, and then, he says, “I see. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you, girls.”

“I don’t think it was anyone’s fault, but if I had to blame someone, I’d blamed the asshole who did it.”

He smiles a little at that. “You’re right, Haeeun.”

“There’s two more,” I admit. “Milan was recent, but he killed two more.” I proceed to tell him about Joori and Taeyong. He says that he’ll investigate, but something is already clicking in his brain, judging the expression on his face.

Junmyeon let me read their case file the other day, and I thought that it’d been odd. Taeyong’s body was found, and Joori’s was found with Baekhyun. It felt like something was rigged in the case file because Joori’s case wasn’t attached to Taeyong’s. Forensics also determined her cause of death in the car accident.

I’m guessing Baekhyun found her somehow, and because he lost his memory, he couldn’t testify.

Before Julian leaves, he articulates, “you’ll never see him again, Haeeun. I can guarantee you that. With the way things are going, he’ll have life imprisonment with no chance of parole.”

And when I tell you that, it finally felt like I could breathe.

Baekhyun is acting strange when Kyungsoo, Jongin, and Sehun come to visit me. The three of them don’t notice, but I can feel it.

His smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. He seems far away. I find myself getting increasingly worried as the day goes on, so I make an excuse for the three of them to leave.

“Will you finally tell me what’s going on?” I prod.

He feigns innocence. “What are you talking about?”

I don’t want to get angry, so I make myself breathe. “Did you hear my conversation with Julian?”

Baekhyun tries not to show his emotions, but I can see the restraint. I’m well familiar with him by now. “Yes.”

“Bae,” I call out softly.

His jaw is clenched tight.

“Baekhyun.”

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks.

I open my mouth to speak, but he interrupts me.

“Dear old me, I’ve forgotten a lot of things, so I guess you made the right decision in hiding it from me, huh? You tell me that you don’t want a pity party when you’re essentially doing the same thing to me—“

I quip, “it wasn’t like that. I couldn’t find the right time. You need to stop getting angry when things don’t go your way.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “When things don’t go my—“ He throws his hands up like he’s at a loss with me. “You’re a chronic liar, wise girl.”

“I wasn’t _lying_.”

“But you weren’t going to tell me either, were you? You were just hoping to ride it out because—let’s be honest—it was never going to come up.”

I cover my face briefly before pulling my hands away. “I made a mistake. You made a mistake.”

He points his finger at me. “Don’t turn it around on me.”

“But am I lying, Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun scoffs, his hands going limb by his side. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You left me for months,” I note. “Without letting me know where the hell you were or what you were up to. Mind you. I have abandonment issues. You, out of all people, should know this. I had to find out from Miyoung.”

He palms his face in distress. “So, you thought you did me a favor by breaking up with me?”

I don’t have the strength to yell, so I don’t. “It was in your best interest.”

“Thank you for hiding the fact that my sister was murdered. I guess that’s also in my best interest—“

“Baek—“

“No, Kang. You broke up with me first. Now, I’m living with it.”

He turns to leave, but I know he heard my question.

“How many times are we going to repeat the same mistakes, Bae?”


	31. enrapture

**[haeeun]**

“I’m going to kill him—“

“Kyungsoo, stop—“

“The next time, I see him. I will make sure he will never have k—“

“God, Kyung. That’s some pleasant imagery,” Sehun says, casually dropping himself beside me.

Jongin is still trying to appease his boyfriend.

I hug Sehun because it makes me feel better and because he’s really good at hugging. Whoever grounds him in the future will be a very lucky lady.

“He’s not wrong. I’m a liar.” My head droops, and Sehun pinches me.

“Head up,” he decrees. “You’re trying, Hae. You’ve been very honest with all of us lately.”

I pinch him back on his stomach. “I wouldn’t say the same for you, Sehunnie.”

He makes a face. “My secrets go to the grave.”

“Whatever, rich boy,” Kyungsoo sasses. “Not you, dumbass,” he says to his boyfriend, who looks sad.

When the nurse comes in, she’s beaming widely—from ear to ear. I’m not sure what to expect. Nothing could be worse than my so-called boyfriend walking out on me.

“Congratulations, you two!” She cheers, clapping her hand.

Sehun and I exchange uneasy looks.

The nurse sighs, grounding herself. “yesterday, we took your blood sample to the lab to check for anything to clear you up for a discharge, and it’s been confirmed. You’re three months pregnant!”

At this time, Tamara walks in with her mouth hanging off of her face. “He’s the father?”

I choke on my spit. “This isn’t—no. He’s not.” I nudge Sehun. “Tell _them_.”

Sehun is too busy laughing to the point of crying. Tamara isn’t getting answers, and she’s just lost. Jongin is also losing it, and Kyungsoo is too.

I sigh quietly.

“Sehun, get off of my girlfriend,” Baekhyun grumbles as he, too, walks into my hospital room. Sehun falls off of my bed unceremoniously. He rubs his bum, frowning a bit.

Jongin hustles Tamara out, promising he’ll explain everything. Kyungsoo follows, not before whispering death threats to Baekhyun.

Lastly, Sehun and the nurse walk out. Then, we’re alone.

“I thought yesterday meant that I wasn’t your girlfriend anymore,” I grumble, folding my arms across my chest.

Baekhyun sits by my bedside. I finally notice the change in his appearance. He’d shaved, and his hair is shorter. Not to mention, it’s brown. He looks much softer, very much boyish.

I don’t hate it. In fact, I would die if he found out that I loved it.

“Why are you here?” I try not to seem to butthurt, and I don’t think I’m very good at it.

“To apologize,” he answers genuinely.

“And why should I believe you?” I question, crossing my arms. I’m worried that I’ll forgive him too easily. The cycle of us breaking up and getting back together would continue for who knows how long? I don’t want that anymore. I want commitment. I want him for myself, but I have too much pride to tell him that.

He hesitates. “Because I don’t want to make stupid mistakes. I lost the fight with my father. I won’t be able to see them, but—“

I gape at him. “Are you crazy?”

Baekhyun looks up, maintaining eye contact. “No, and I need you to realize your worth. You’re worth fighting for because you’re _alive_. That’s the difference.”

When I don’t speak, he continues.

“I went to see my old therapist yesterday.” I rub the nape of my neck, not able to look at him properly. “I still hate her, but she asked me questions that made sense. I spent the entire time talking about you.”

“You did?”

Baekhyun presses his palm to the side of my neck, just right under my jaw. “I’m an angry person. She said that I’d have to learn self-control if I wanted you back.”

I release an airy breath. “So, what’d you do?”

“I scheduled another appointment with her,” he answers.

Finally, I smile. I give him my best one yet—the dimpled ones.

Baekhyun kisses one chastely and releases me. “I wasn’t angry at you. I was disoriented because my memories came back so vividly. I wasn’t ready to relive the worst moment of my life, Eun. I received a text from Joori that night when you disappeared, and when I found her, she was—“ He chokes up. “I just wanted to take away her pain, but I couldn’t. She was gone. Just gone. I was speeding. I thought maybe I could make it, but I—“

I wrap my arms around him. “I know. You lost control. It wasn’t your fault. You have to know that.”

He shakes his head fervently, trying to deny. I hold him still. “You didn’t kill her. _Accept_ that. I almost died, Baekhyun. You don’t want to get to that point when you realize that you’re living as a ghost of the past, and it’s too late.”

“Funny—my therapist said the same thing,” he murmurs, the ends of his voice reaching the territory of mischief.

“Well, she’s right, and I don’t want to see you wasting away.”

Baekhyun hesitates for a split second. “I remember you.”

I nod, shrugging.

“You don’t care?”

I squint my eyes. “I do care, but it doesn’t matter to me. You always end up coming back, don’t you?”

He huffs. “Whatever.”

I let out a breezy laugh. “You hear that, baby? Daddy’s a sore loser.”

Baekhyun freezes. “What?”

“Oh,” I stutter. “Funny thing actually happened—my nurse came earlier to tell me the news, and she thought Sehun was the dad.”

“You’re pregnant?” He asks, grabbing onto my shoulders.

“Yes.”

“It’s mine?”

I fix him a strange look. “No, I slept with a turtle.”

He ignores this and squeezes me in a tight hug. “I’m a dad.”

“Yes, that’s the point,” I drone, smiling sarcastically.

Baekhyun roughs me up until I can’t breathe without wheezing, but I’m not mad. We had celebratory sex.

Alright, sue me for having sex in a hospital. I couldn’t wait until I was discharged, okay?

Dr. Lee, my practician, shows me how to use my crutches. My armpits hurt like a bitch in the beginning, but she reassures me that I’ll get used to them very soon. I can only hope so.

They tell me that they’ll wheel me out for now. I’m helped into the passenger seat, and Tamara takes me to our new place.

On our way, she chatters about falling in love with the home and shares that she hopes I feel the same way. We stop in front of a quaint European style house. It’s a beautiful brown, two-story. The shingles are chocolate-colored. Multiple big windows are spanning the building. The shutters are egg colored, but they’re a nice contrast to the brown.

There’s a conical tower on the right-wing, near the doorway.

She points to it and says my room is up there. I’m in awe because, like her, I love it. The house is charming, and even if this place must’ve cost a fortune, it feels different. It feels like a new start. Whereas our old place felt cold and spacious, this one was decorated in a more homely manner.

My bedroom was beautiful. She kept a lot of my old things, but my furniture had a vintage feel to it. My window had a bench seat, matching the curve of the tower and overlooking the green hills. She got me a new bed, a canopy with sheer cream curtains.

I squealed, thanking her and throwing my arms around her. Tamara squeaks as she catches me before we both fall onto the floor.

At the same time, my friends jump out of my closet, surprising me. They scream, _welcome home!_ I giggle, holding out my arms. They all join me in a big group hug.

I’ve never felt better.

When I get my acceptance letter to NYU, Baekhyun’s the first to know. Kyungsoo would probably strangle me because he’d already received his due to early decision, and he’d been the most anxious one out of us all.

He tells me that he’s proud of me, and he knew I could do it. He’s a liar, but it’s okay. I don’t like admitting my flaws, either.

One day, I get a random call from him at school.

“Hello?” I greet in a strange tone.

“ _Hi_ ,” Baekhyun returns airily.

I narrow my eyes. “I’m in the middle of class.”

“ _Which one?_ ”

“Calc,” I answer.

He snorts. “ _Make an excuse._ ”

I tell the substitute teacher that I’ve bled through my tampon. As a male, he is flustered and tells me to take care of it quickly.

“ _Nice one,_ ” Baekhyun comments casually.

I hum, “I would’ve found a million ways to get out of your class, but you know me too well.”

“ _Like how I know you didn’t take your prenatal vitamins this morning_ ,” he accuses, his voice rising as if to tease me.

“Blah blah blah—you’re nagging. I’m hanging up,” I deadpan.

His laugh fills my chest with warmth, and even though it’s only been a couple of hours since we’ve seen each other, I miss him already. “ _Well, I have a question, but it’s not really a question._ ”

I bite back a wide grin. I can’t look like I’m too in love. “What’s your question, boy?”

“ _Will you marry me?_ ”

Skip to me, choking on my spit. “W-what?”

“ _Will you marry me?_ ”

I still can’t get used to it. “No, I heard you the first time. This is really random. Are you dying any time soon?”

“ _No, but that’s the point._ ”

“I don’t get it.”

He sighs like it’s taking too much of his time to explain to a child. “ _What if we die tomorrow?_ ”

“We won’t,” I mutter.

Baekhyun groans, “ _no, babe—it’s hypothetical. Can you just work with me here?_ ”

I chuckle. “Okay, we die tomorrow. What’s next?”

“ _The universe wants to tear us apart. I say that we overcome it._ ”

“Let me get this straight—you wanna overcome a metaphorical obstacle?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” he chirps.

I stare off into the distance, blinking confusedly. “Are you high?”

“ _No, but I got a job offer_ ,” Baekhyun says nonchalantly.

My jaw drops. “You did? For what?”

“ _I got a residency offer from the New York-Presbyterian hospital_.”

“Wow, that’s—wow. Congratulations.”

“ _The next few years will be rough for both of us. I won’t have much money_ —“

I shake my head as the smile on my face grows. “I don’t care if we’re dirt broke. I don’t care if we have to live paycheck to paycheck. You’re my family, and so is our little baby.”

“ _Say that again_ ,” he whispers.

“You’re my family.”

I can hear him physically smile. The smile that reaches the deepest parts of his eyes. “ _I love you, and you’re going to marry me._ ”

I’m smiling too. Ear to ear. “I’ll marry you any day, Bae.”

“Bae, wake up,” I whine, poking his stomach. He’s sprawled on my bed, mouth agape, and snoring. I check my phone. It’s 3 AM, but do I care about that?

No, I care about how hungry I am. He groans and mumbles sleepy words before snoring again. I tsk him, and with a sly grin, I jump on him.

“Ah, fuck. Babe.” He groans into my neck. “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt our baby.” I feel his arms wound tight around me as he snuggles me closer. “You smell good,” he drawls. A few seconds later, he’s passed out asleep again.

I struggle against him, annoyed—my stomach rumbles. I glance down in determination. “Get. UP.” I shout into his ears, possibly making him deaf.

He shoots up and conks my head. “Babe, are you trying to kill me? Just let me sleep, please? I have to get up in a few hours for work.”

“I’m hungry,” I pout.

Baekhyun sighs. “Again?”

I shoot him a glare, and he avoids my eyes. “Yes, _again_. You shouldn’t have gotten me pregnant if you’re already tired with my needs.”

He bites my bottom lip, and I yelp. “Don’t say that. Baby will hear.” He pulls me toward him. “What are you craving?” He asks, propping us up until I’m sitting up on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist.

I grin into his hair. This man is so whipped. “I want waffles with a shit ton of whipped cream.”

Baekhyun’s laugh is low, and it makes me warm when I feel it resonate in his chest. “Okay, okay, you big baby. Sheesh, I didn’t know I signed up to take care of two babies.”

I run my hands in his hair, messing it up. “Fine, you can leave at any time. I can just marry Sehun. I bet he’ll take care of me.”

Baekhyun bites my shoulder this time. “Keep running your mouth, and I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.”

My laughs get louder when he lifts me. I wrap my arms around his neck tighter, so I don’t fall. “I want waffles.”

“Where do you think we’re going then?” He growls playfully into my neck.

“Ugh, you’re tickling me. Stop it.”

Baekhyun ignores my pleas and continues to mess with me. He takes me to a 24-hour diner, and once I get out of the car, I jump excitedly.

“I swear, Eun. If you fall, I’m going to—“ I trip on the sidewalk, and he jumps out to catch me. “What did I tell you? Be careful.” He sounds stern, but at the same time, he’s such a big softie.

He pulls me closer to him, arms around my shoulder. I smile cheekily, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Once we’re inside, the waitress comes to greet us. I order a plate of waffles with a shit ton of whipped cream.

Baekhyun says he isn’t hungry, so he doesn’t get anything. Whatever suits him.

The waffles don't take that long, and I excitedly munch on them after drowning them in syrup and whipped cream. Baekhyun looks down at my plate and winces, probably calculating how many grams of sugar I've just devoured.

I offer him some, but he says he’s full just watching me eat. I tell him that he’s distracting me because he’s too darn adorable with that content smile of his.

When the waitress comes with our bill, she asks, “are you two married?”

I sass, “he wishes.”

Baekhyun chuckles adoringly. “Thank you for the check.”

“You’re a lucky girl,” she says dreamily before walking away.

I face him, inching closer until only he can hear me. “She’s wrong. You’re lucky to have me,” I inform.

He nods mockingly. “How could I forget how lucky I am to clean your vomit, take you out at ungodly hours at night, and get yelled at all the time?”

I wink. “You love me.”

Baekhyun gives me a chaste kiss. Then, he pulls his wallet out and pays the amount, dropping some tips as well. “Alright, let’s go, I need at least an hour of sleep, or I’m going to pass out when I’m charting tomorrow.”

I hook my arms around him, leaning my head onto him. “Can I spoon you tonight?”

“Yes, your highness. Whatever you like.”

I’m currently sitting on Baekhyun’s lap as he’s propped on the bed. I lean back until his chin is nestled on my shoulder. My hands are full with a baby book that Jongin got us. I’m flipping through the unisex names.

“What do you want to name, Baby?” I ask.

Baekhyun hums cluelessly. “I don’t know, Eun. I mean, you’re the one holding the baby book. I’m not picky.”

My eyes glint with mischievousness. “So, you’re saying you wouldn’t mind the name, Bob? Or Shrek? Or—or Desdemona?”

He scrunches his nose in distaste. “ _Okay_ , you made your point. Please don’t name our baby something you’d regret.”

“You _mean_ something you’d dislike. You have too much pride. You're about to become a dad. You might as well swallow the rest of it,” I note.

Baekhyun ignores me, kissing the side of my head. “How about something Korean? We’re both Korean.”

I do a happy whoop. “We could give Baby a Western and a Korean name.”

He groans, “that means we have to come up with four names.” Then, he mutters some curses but stops when I pinch his arm.

“Look here, mister. You better cut it out with the complaining. I’m not afraid to snap your neck in half.”

He turns a little pale. “I don’t know why I don’t doubt you.”

I grin, satisfied. We spend the rest of the day coming up with some names, but honestly, it was mostly Baekhyun and I shooting each other’s suggestions down.

“This isn’t very white, but I like the name Soleil,” I offer. Baekhyun grows silent. “It’s a girl name, and it means sun in French. Pretty, right?”

“I like it. I thought about a Korean name. How about we name Baby after my little sister or Taeyong?”

I gasp, clapping my hand together. “That’s brilliant. I’d love that. I really like the name Taeyong. I don’t think we need to think of a western name for a boy.”

Baekhyun squeezes me in his arm. “We’re good now, right?”

I furrow my forehead. “What are you—“

“I’m so sleepy, babe. Let me just—"

“Baekhyun!” He pulls us down, so we’re under the covers. I scream when he tickles my side. “Bae—“ I laugh, jerking away from him.

He finally stops after a full minute of torture. He pushes himself on top of me, eyes swimming with fondness when he looks at me. “You’re adorable, Kang.”

I lock my legs around him, preventing him from leaving. “Are you taking advantage of me right now, mister?”

He smiles abashedly. “I would never,” he feigns theatrically. Rolling my eyes, I latch my lips on his, loving that he moans when our tongues touch. “You—“ He kisses me on my jaw.

“—feel—“ He proceeds down to my collarbone, hands snaking under my shirt until he’s thumbing my bare skin.

“—amazing.”

I sigh in content when he reaches down further, fingers pressed where I need him the most. My fingers creep under his shirt until I’m pulling it over his head, and he does the same with mine. I trail my hands over the smooth expanse of his stomach and the beautiful v-line that leads down.

His eyes are shut, and his stomach tenses from my fingers as if he’s anticipating my next move. I smile against his neck, giving him small butterfly kisses, and then, I’m nipping the skin on his clavicle.

He said tomorrow was his day off, and given the number of hours he works on a daily basis, there was no way in hell I was letting him sleep tonight.

I mean, I’m pregnant. It’s not like I lost the ability to be horny.

We throw a baby shower. Tamara invited a lot of her friends. Our backyard is brimming with people, the smell of barbecue wafting in the air.

I’m wearing a sundress because the weather is warm out. The boys show up with more food, despite me telling them that they didn’t have to bring anything.

“I’m glad you all came today,” Tamara greets them with a wide smile. Her hair is pulled up today, and she looks so carefree.

Sehun smiles charmingly. “Of course, we had to. Who would say no to free alcohol?”

I shoot him a glare, but Tamara doesn’t seem to mind. “Help yourself. I didn’t hear anything.”

Jongin smirks, “cool mom, you’ve got.”

I bring an arm around her. “I know, right? She’s the coolest mom ever.” Tamara’s eyes are shiny, and she sniffles. I laugh quietly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m—I’m not crying,” she denies, fanning her face.

“You’ll ruin your make-up, Ms. Hussain,” Kyungsoo teases.

“Call me Tamara, boys. Anyway, you all have fun, okay?”

She leaves us to it and goes back to socializing. Sehun drags me to the table filled with food. “Did you eat yet? You’re not starving yourself, right?”

I roll my eyes. “No, grandpa. I am fully fed, okay?”

Kyungsoo comes over with Jongin next to him. Jongin offers all of us flutes of champagne.

“Dude, she’s preggo,” Sehun comments, stealing my fluke.

I side-glance him. “A little won’t hurt.”

“No way,” a new voice says.

All four of us turn. “What are you doing here?” I ask, staring down my fiancé.

Baekhyun takes a seat beside me. “Here for our baby shower?”

“No, I know, but I thought you had a shift today,” I contemplate.

He wraps an arm over my shoulders, pulling me in until I’m flushed against his side. “I did, but I wanted to be here.”

Jongin beams. “Good call. She’s glowing.”

Sehun tsks. “Oh, the joys of being single.”

Kyungsoo snickers. “Hey, no one is stopping you. You’re literally a massive fuck-boy.”

“That is completely true,” a feminine voice tunes in.

My smile grows wider. “Jisoo, hi.”

Jisoo waves. “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by. Congrats, by the way.”

When she’s gone, Baekhyun has a look of surprise on his face. “You two are…cool now?”

I nod. “She’s been tolerable.”

“Look at my little girl growing up,” he coos, squeezing my cheeks.

I make a show of gagging. “Please stop. We’re in public.”

Kyungsoo points to me. “That honestly doesn’t stop either of you. I can’t remember the amount of times Jongin, and I graciously sat in front of your classroom to block others from going in.”

I laugh snidely. “I’m going to miss that darn classroom.”

It turns out I wasn’t going to miss high school that much. “Don’t you dare look back,” I snap.

Baekhyun trembles from laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I whine loudly.

He bites his lip and fails. “Okay, okay.”

“I told you to act normal.”

“Babe, nothing about our relationship is normal.”

“If you knew that, then why would you come?”

He snorts. “I wouldn’t miss your graduation.”

I sigh, relaxing a little because he’s a slick motherfucker. “I just embarrassed myself in front of the entire school.”

“I thought you were pretty sexy, though,” he murmurs in my ear.

My neck heats. “I can’t believe I told those girls that we’re engaged. I mean—did you see the look on the principal’s face? He looked like he was about to pass out.”

“He’s an asshole. He deserves it anyway,” Baekhyun announces.

I chuckle. “Oh, definitely. He was fucking students too.”

“I’m surprised anyone would sleep with him.”

“I know, right? He’s like the lowest you can go.”

“Did our friends text you about upcoming plans for later?”

I shake my head, tugging at our interlaced fingers. “I think Sehun said he was having dinner with his dad. Kyungsoo’s throwing a party at his house, so Jongin will definitely be there. I wouldn’t go too early. I walked in on them, and it was awkward as fuck.”

Baekhyun snickers. “Well, imagine the times they’ve walked in on us.”

“Oh man—I’m surprised they haven’t broken up with me, friend-wise.”

“We all need you. You’re a special breed, wise girl.”

Butterflies fill my tummy at the familiar nickname. “I hate your mouth.”

He squeezes my hand. “Whatever you say, babe. Let’s go _home_.”

He isn’t speaking to me. Byun Baekhyun is decidedly giving me the cold shoulders. I jut my lips toward his direction, but he doesn’t give me anything.

“Bae, are you mad at me?” I ask, sneaking up behind him. He glares at me before going back to his phone. Sighing, I pull him down with me on our couch. He doesn’t fight me, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to hug me either. “I’m sorry…” I finally say after a long minute of silence.

He gives me a side-glance. “About _what_?”

I gulp and scratch my chin nervously. “About…um—“

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, for fucks sakes, “ he exasperates.

I pout and look away. “I’m just _sorry._ I absolutely hate it when you’re angry. Somehow, it makes me feel worse than when I’m angry. You’re like super petty and underhanded and—“

“I’m sorry? Was this supposed to be an apology?” My lips seal shut as I glance at him sheepishly.

Then, he signs in resignation and holds out his arm. “Come here, stupid.” I feel a smile grow on my face as I cheerfully sidle into his lap.

Baekhyun holds me in his lap, his fingers caressing the fabric over my stomach. At this stage, I have a big tummy. So, it’s gotten harder to walk without my back hurting. My ankles have been swollen this entire summer, even worse with the heat waves.

“Can you forgive me already?” I ask. He grows silent. I bite my lip. Oopsy daisies. Maybe I jumped the gun too early.

“You’re so much work, Kang. I told you numerous times not to carry any boxes, no matter how light they are,” he nags. I stay silent; suddenly, my fingernails are fun to play with. “You could’ve ended up injuring your back and hurt yourselves in other ways.”

He realizes that I’m not really listening. I’ve gotten really good at tuning out Baekhyun’s lectures. Clicking his tongue, he bites my shoulder, which makes me jump. “Listen to me.” He waits. “I know it seems like I’m endlessly lecturing you, but it’s because I care.”

I don’t answer.

“Would you rather me not care?”

I turn around, so I’m straddling him on the couch. It takes a bit of work, but I eventually get there. After grunting tiredly, I trace the curves on his face. His eyes glow with earnestness when he directs them at me. My heart does weird backflips. How is it that he still is bad for my heart even now?

“I know you care, but I also know if I put myself in that position, you’ll be right here. I can be a little hard-headed—okay, no—a lot. But I’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness. I’ll even eat every last cucumber. I’m willing to go so far for our little family, and you know that I’ve been particularly nauseous around cucumbers.”

He sounds a little breathless when he tells me, “say that again.”

I blink, puzzled at his request. “I’ll apologize even if I don’t know what I did wrong?”

“No, not that. The other thing.”

My dimples peek out from under. “How much I’m willing to go for our family?”

Baekhyun groans, “I can’t believe you’re turning me on right now.”

I bite my lip, suppressing a laugh threatening to spill from me. He stares at me with a tender expression that I’ve never seen him used on anyone else. Naturally, I pucker my lips as a joke, but he takes my face in his hands, bringing me in for a kiss.

I moan, content with the pressure of his soft lips. Baekhyun truly knows how to kiss a woman.

“When is your mom coming back?” Baekhyun asks. The word _mom_ makes me weirdly happy.

I snuggle against him, soaking in his smell per usual. “She says she’ll be back before I’m due next month.”

“Is that so?” He kisses the side of my neck lovingly. “Are you excited to start school?”

I wrinkle my face. “I’m going to be out the majority of next month because of Baby.”

“Don’t worry about it. The first semester sucks anyway. You’re a smart girl. You can do it,” Baekhyun assures.

“Are you scared?”

“Of what?” He sounds genuinely curious.

“Of being parents,” I murmur. “What if I’m a terrible mom?”

Baekhyun hums, “Oh, definitely, I wouldn’t be surprised if Baby ran away.” I huff and try to push myself away from him. “It was a joke, babe.” He catches my hand, pulling me back onto his lap. I fall with a thud.

“I’m heavy, don’t do that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“You're not heavy at all. Maybe like a baby cow, but you’re really cute, though.”

I tsk him. “Real smooth, asshole.”

“I’m just kidding, wise girl. On a more serious note, you’ll be a great mom first of all, because you’re actually present. You aren’t your paternal parents. You’re caring, funny, and lately, all the more annoying—” I smack his chest, making him chuckle. “But I love you. Baby will love you. And I think we should christen this apartment.”

“Right here?” I signal to our new couch. The couch Tamara gifted us as a housewarming gift.

He grins devilishly. “We have an entire apartment to ourselves. How about we be a little more creative than that?”


	32. epilogue

**[multiple pov]**

“Jongin, did you find streamers?” Baekhyun asks, mind racing with the million of tasks he has to complete today.

Jongin doesn’t answer, and instead, he begins cooing and throwing Baekhyun’s daughter into the air. Her loud squeals echo in the apartment.

Baekhyun palms his face in exasperation. “Kim Jongin, would you stop being distracted by Sol and pay attention?”

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Sol babbles, clinging onto the younger boy. Jongin bursts into a deep, adoring laugh.

“He’s not your daddy, baby. Come to your real daddy,” Baekhyun coaxes with his arm out. His daughter turns away with her tongue out.

Jongin looks completely in love with Sol at this point and isn’t going to listen any time soon. Baekhyun slumps in resignation as he checks the time. It’s current 8 AM. Seven hours before the party began.

Kyungsoo and his baby girl should be out right now, but he doesn’t know when Haeeun will realize that Kyungsoo is stalling her.

Baekhyun may be her one and only, but she would definitely pick Soleil over him. His phone buzzes at this time, and speaking of the devil; he picks up on the second dial. “Why are you calling? You should be out enjoying your day.”

His fiancé says, “ _I know, but I just miss my little baby right now. Can I say hi to her?_ ”

Baekhyun is relentless. “No, now stop calling me, or I’ll block your number.”

Haeeun has been working hard for four years straight, balancing between being a mom and a university student. Of course, it hasn’t been easy for her. She’s cried in his arms numerous times because of the stress. Tomorrow, she was going to be walking the stage, and it meant a lot to him.

He wanted to see his beautiful fiancé glow on the stage and receive her diploma after all of her hard work.

Today, however, he wanted to give her a break from being a mom. She hasn’t been able to goof around like her peers, and for one day, he at least wanted her to experience being a young adult.

Haeeun concedes, “ _fine, but I’m sleeping with Sol tonight._ ”

Baekhyun smiles a little to himself and ends the call. He turns to the scene, clapping his hand loudly. “Jongin, I will ban you from seeing Sol ever again if you don’t help me.”

Roughly five hours later, Baekhyun and Jongin have managed to decorate the living room and fill it up with numerous balloons that either say _congratulations_ or has something to do with graduation. They’ve also got a pretty cream cake from the trendy bakery from the city.

He and Jongin came up with a plan to surprise their significant other. Jongin secretly flew here in the middle of the night, so Kyungsoo doesn’t know his boyfriend is in the area.

Two weeks ago, they had all flown out to celebrate Jongin’s graduation. Soleil had stayed behind with her grandma.

Jongin was immediately scouted the same day he graduated. He directed a short film, and it blew up overnight, making him instantly seek other directors' attention in Hollywood.

The five of them drank until the brink of dawn. Baekhyun was pretty sure he blacked out somewhere in the middle of beer pong.

There’s a knock on the door, and Baekhyun jumps up on his feet in a panic. Was Haeeun back already? He curses under his breath as he opens the door.

It’s not Haeeun, but Sehun. “What’s up, Baekhyun?” Baekhyun grins as they exchange a quick bro hug. “I heard you needed an extra hand.”

The latter is holding two catering trays in his hands. Baekhyun has never been more grateful in his life.

“Hoonie!” Soleil bounces excitedly in Jongin’s arms. Jongin and Baekhyun share a sour look. It looks like his daughter favors Sehun the most.

Sehun laughs and grabs her, whirling her around in a hug. “I missed you so much, you cutie.”

“No, me! Me, more, more!” His daughter giggles cutely. If she weren’t such a sweetheart, Baekhyun definitely would’ve kicked Sehun out in jealousy.

“Are there more people coming?” Sehun asks.

Jongin answers, “Yeah, I think some of Kyungsoo and Hae’s friends from university.

“Miyoung, Chanyeol, and Tamara. I invited some of my colleagues too,” Baekhyun adds.

Sehun nods. “Are we all going to fit in here?”

Baekhyun glances around the room. “Let’s hope everything works out. I want today to be perfect.”

Baekhyun stares at his watch, counting down the time. “Okay, everybody, hide!” He yells. Conversations fall to a hush as people find places to hide behind.

He switches off the light. “Kyungsoo says they’re in the elevator right now,” he explains.

Sehun beams and begins a quiet countdown. Right when the door opens, everyone jumps up and yells, “surprise!”

Haeeun jumps back a few inches from the doorway as she slowly scans the room. Kyungsoo flips on the lights, his eyes widening when he spots his boyfriend in the crowd.

“Jong? What are you—why are you here?” He sputters. Jongin holds out his arm, and Kyungsoo doesn’t waste any time throwing his arms around the latter’s neck.

Haeeun does a happy squeak when she spots Baekhyun. Her dimples are directed at him. His heart stutters and flips upside down, and he finds it hard to breathe correctly.

She’s _beautiful_. In his entire life, he's never seen anyone as gorgeous as her. He’s counting on that to last until the day they die.

Her eyes are glassy, and he approaches her, sweeping a finger under her eyes. “Why are you crying, you baby?” He teases.

Haeeun chokes on a sob. “I hate you. Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“Then, it wouldn’t be a surprise, _duh_.”

“Mommy!” Little Soleil shouts from Sehun’s arms. He approaches the couple, holding out Soleil.

Haeeun grins, pulling their daughter toward her. “My little baby girl. Mommy missed you so much today,” she coos.

Baekhyun’s heart slightly melts at this sight.

“Where’s Kyungha?” Jongin asks his boyfriend nearby.

Kyungsoo pulls back from their hug. “Mom’s coming with her later. She’s gotten so clever with her mouth. It’s a tragedy. My cute little sister is now the smartest one out of all of us.”

It was true. At only eight, Kyungha’s surpassed her classmates and is already learning high school curriculum.

Baekhyun hopes his daughter is as bright if not only more, but it’s a foolish wish. He’s already gotten everything he wanted.

Four years ago, Baekhyun took Haeeun’s affection for granted, but he knows it now, she's the one who saved him from himself—just as much as he’s saved her.

Life is funny. To think she was only the nameless girl that appeared in his dreams. They went from having meaningless sex to finding _love_. Hell, she’s become his entire world now. He recovered his memories shortly after they fought about his sister.

Haeeun is the strongest person he’s ever met. He’s grateful she never gave up on him. If she had, he didn’t know where he would be today.

Now, he couldn’t imagine a life without Haeeun and Soleil. He swore he would do whatever it would take to keep these two close to him.

In another thirty minutes, the room is filled with people.

“Wait, Haeeun. You’re saying you have a fiancé?” Baekhyun wonders if she even told anyone.

Haeeun turns to him and signals him over. “This is Mika. She was in my early childhood development class with Kyungsoo.”

In the beginning, Haeeun didn’t know what she wanted to become, but she soon found her calling when Kyungsoo dragged her to volunteer at an elementary school. She realized that she wanted to become a teacher. Of course, it helped that she had a little daughter of her own.

“I’m Baekhyun. Nice to meet you.” He gives her a welcoming smile, not missing the little swoon she does. He guesses that he's still a catch to university students.

Haeeun ignores it, but she protectively hooks her arms around his, pulling him in closer. He does a little laugh under his breath but stops when she shoots him a glare that goes unnoticed by her friend.

Mika gapes at them. “Esther and I thought you were lying the whole time because Brodie wouldn’t stop following you around.”

Baekhyun’s jaw ticks. He stays calm for the sole purpose of investigating. “Brodie?”

Mika laughs as she recalls the memories. “He’s the captain of the swim team. Super fu—I mean fricking hot.” She covers her mouth slightly, glancing over at Kyungsoo, bouncing Soleil in his arm. “He told me the day he met her that she was his soulmate. We all thought it was so cute, and Esther wouldn’t stop setting them up on dates. Now that I think about it, I guess that’s why Kyungsoo was so mortified all the time.”

Haeeun isn’t looking particularly anywhere. Of course, she isn’t. The girl is busy avoiding his questioning eyes.

When Mika excuses herself for drinks, he pulls her to a more private corner. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, Brodie guy?”

She clears her throat. “I thought it wasn’t necessary. It’s not like I’m interested in anyone other than you.”

Baekhyun sulks. “But you went on dates with him.”

Haeeun pretends not to hear him. “He wasn't that hot.” He glares at her. “Sorry, geez. He was really attractive, okay? But…”

Baekhyun’s ear twitches. “But?”

She glances around quickly before stepping closer to him. “But he never got to kiss these lips or fuck me like you do.”

He bites his lips, suppressing a grin. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

She kisses him slowly, and before he knows it, Baekhyun isn’t really that annoyed anymore. His fiancé has always had that magic. “Maybe a little bit,” she discloses, winking at him. “When are you starting your fellowship for cardiothoracic surgery?”

“Next week. I’m going to get really busy, so you better not cheat on me.”

Haeeun rolls her eyes. “I can’t promise you anything when it comes to Sol.”

Baekhyun feels kind of lightheaded when takes in their surrounding. He’s finally confident enough to admit something to himself: pushing others away may only be temporary protection. Happiness is something that will protect you in the long run.

It may not be true for everyone, but it’s his absolute truth.

Kyungsoo chews on his lips. “I can’t believe it. You have a boyfriend? A _boyfriend_.” Esther glances between Jongin and Kyungsoo. “You’re—you’re not straight?”

Jongin coughs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh to him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but he’s as straight as a circle.”

He glares over at his boyfriend, who raises his palm in defense.

The girl curses under her breath. “I’m sorry—ugh—I’m the worse. I shouldn’t have kissed you that day.”

Jongin’s jaw drops as he stares between them. Kyungsoo startles, waving his hand abruptly in her face. His eyes are wide as he tries to shush her from spilling the details.

His boyfriend excuses them after handing Soleil off to Sehun. Kyungsoo gulps nervously as he tries to look anywhere else but his glowering boyfriend. “Do you remember that fight we had?”

He tries to play it off. “We’ve had many, Jong. I can’t remember them all.” _Lies._ Kyungsoo knows exactly what his boyfriend is talking about.

Jongin puffs his cheeks out in irritation. Despite looking pissed, he’s still very, very hot. _That_ , Kyungsoo appreciates. “I can’t believe you. You accused me of being the one to cheat first, but you’re off, kissing a _girl_. The closest human contact I've had sexually is my _hand_.”

“Can you not be so crude?” Kyungsoo scolds.

Jongin crosses his arms. “That is beside the point. Stop avoiding my eyes. You should be glad that you’re purely gay, or this would’ve totally been worse.”

He smiles gratefully toward his understanding boyfriend. “I love you. You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

Jongin is obviously hiding a smile behind his frown. “I got an offer to direct an indie film,” he begins quietly.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything.

“But that would mean I’d have to stay in LA for at least two years,” he drawls nervously. His bravado is completely gone now.

The past four years have been tough on them. Kyungsoo constantly missed his boyfriend, and he hated their little fights that became harder to resolve because of the distance.

Sighing, he holds Jongin’s face in his hands. “Babe, I can get a teaching license anywhere. Don’t let me hold you back from your dreams. We already talked about this in high school.”

Jongin’s eyebrows are knitted. “Kyung, _no_. Do you know why I’ve been obsessed with movies since I was a kid?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know. He’s never had to think about it.

“It was _you_. When I was younger, my parents were never home. You know that now. My housekeeper was always strict with me. I was never allowed to play any games or watch movies at home. It was always either music lessons or homework.

One day, you invited me to your birthday party. I wasn’t planning on going. Let’s face it. You weren’t cool back then.”

Jongin gets a smack from his boyfriend.

“Ow! I’m only spitting facts, geez—you're so abusive sometimes. Anyway, I helped you with those annoying pesky brats, and you invited me to your party as thanks.” Jongin pauses to smile at the nostalgia he feels.

“I ended up going anyway out of spite. I remember being so depressed, and the feeling of not belonging anywhere suffocated me. I ran away from home and showed up on your doorstep. We watched every single Star Wars movie you had on VCR. I fell in love right then and there. Now that I think about it, maybe my love for movies and you began simultaneously. Even though my caretaker grounded me for weeks for being out so late, I was happy. I was always alone at home, and it felt good to meet you. Someone who actually cared about me—not because I had money or because I was popular.

Later, I realized I wanted to have the ability to do that too. Convey a sense of comfort through movies. I wanted that power, and you helped me realized that.

I don’t want to stay away from you or sacrifice your wants for my own. You helped me with so many things. By forcing me to go, I had a blast in the last four years, but it was hard without you.

I don’t want to go anywhere that you aren’t. It doesn’t feel right. My world doesn’t feel right if you aren’t there with me.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes are red and watery. “You sap,” he hiccups.

Jongin smiles softly, pulling his boyfriend in a hug. “Well, lucky you because I only show this side to you.”

“I got into the teaching program in Santa Barbara. It’s still pretty far, but at least you can come to see me on weekends,” he grumbles whilst being buried in the pretty boy’s arms.

Jongin beams against his neck and Kyungsoo wouldn’t have settled for anything else.

“Mom!” Kyungha groans when her mom tells her not to stare at Sehun too much. She approaches the front doorstep of Haeeun’s living space timidly.

Her knock isn’t heard, so she tries to turn the doorknob. To her surprise, it opens. When she steps in, she jerks in surprise at the amount of people in the room.

Kyungha attempts to find her older brother, but she can’t find him anywhere due to her height. Rolling her eyes, she easily squeezes through tiny gaps due to her small frame. She spots Haeeun talking to Baekhyun, but before she can call out to them, her long hair gets snagged in something.

She hisses in pain. “Excuse me.” She tries to get an older lady's attention, but the woman is preoccupied with her friend. She chatters along cluelessly as Kyungha is stuck in her spot, hair being yanked at the woman's little movements.

“Excuse me.” A deeper voice gets the attention of all three of them. Kyungha turns around, glancing at the speaker. She narrows her eyes at Sehun, slightly light-headed at his height. “Her hair is stuck on your coat. Can you help her out?”

The woman blushes when he speaks to her. She nods stiffly, trying to pull Kyungha’s strands from her zipper.

She tugs too harshly because Kyungha cannot help but wince every now and then at the force.

Sehun steps in. “Can you let me…?” He signals to her coat.

“O-of course, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she apologizes, glancing between him and the little girl.

Being only eight, many would think Kyungha didn’t notice a lot of things. They were wrong. She may be gifted at academics with her impressively high IQ, but she wasn’t socially stunted.

At five, she’s didn't resort to Magic Tree House books. She had liked to read romance novels to say that she was adequately educated in that field.

Sehun’s good looks obviously flustered the woman. Kyungha doesn’t really know how she feels about Sehun. Despite her being smarter than most kids her age, he treats her like a child.

There’s where her mother went wrong. She has no feelings toward him. He was simply an older guy, close to her brother and his friends. She often was caught giving him distasteful looks, but only he never seemed to mind them.

People she was indifferent to often spoke badly about her. Her old classmates were an example. They had always given her dirty looks and told her to quit being a teacher’s pet.

When the bruises got worse, Kyungsoo and their mom finally took it to themselves to send her to a private school for accelerated and gifted kids.

Kyungha can’t say it’s any better than before. Still, she prefers having elaborate conversations with retired professors who often came to lecture classes than dumbing down to fit in with her peers.

Sehun made her uneasy. His presence was weird. Kyungha knew he was really smart, incredibly smarter than everyone in this room—but why did he act like he wasn’t?

No one really was aware of his intelligence until he got into Georgia Tech and recently graduated with Summa Cum Laude.

She watches him untangle her hair gently. Her heart somehow speeds up just a little bit. His expression is serious, yet at the same time, he manages to look caring.

He rises to his full height after he’s done. He and the woman exchange some final words before he offers her his hand.

Kyungha reluctantly grabs it. Only because she’s the tiniest person here, and she's afraid to be squashed like a cockroach. She thanks him briskly, cheeks warm.

Sehun chuckles, kneeling down to her height. “You’ve gotten so big now! I haven’t seen you in…” He pauses to think. “How long has it been?”

“Six months and 13 days,” she answers without any thought. Kyungha’s face grows warmer. _Freak_. She was a freak! She suddenly has a strong urge to drown herself.

Sehun blinks at her in astonishment. “Is that right?”

She merely shrugs, turning her face away.

He ruffles her hair. “I see. You’ve been counting since then, huh?” Sehun winks at her. “Kyungsoo says you hate me, but I had hope in you.”

Is she having a heart attack? Kyungha stares down at her chest. “I don’t even know you. Why would I hate you?”

His eyes gleam. “Then why do you always glare at me?”

She huffs. “I don’t always glare at you. Stop jumping to conclusions.”

“I wonder what goes on in that little genius brain of yours. I don’t know whether to be afraid of you or proud,” he comments offhandedly.

Kyungha snorts, not believing his lie one bit. “You’re a terrible liar, Hoon. I think you do know what it’s like to be smarter than everyone—to feel alone because of it. We’re celebrated for it, but just because we’re geniuses, it doesn’t mean we’re the same. You just like to pretend you’re someone else.” Of course, Kyungha has just grown aware of this fact. The reason why she's never understood him is because she didn’t understand herself either.

He watches her, mouth slightly agape. She stares at his lips and wills herself to look away.

“Cat got your tongue?” She quickly says, breaking his stupor.

His lips curve upward, but his eyes are far away. “First of all, Kyungha. It’s _oppa_.”

She harrumphs. “I’m never calling you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyah! this story leads to éphémère. click on my series link to check it out!


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